


tied to you i don't feel shackled

by g0ryllama



Series: Give Me All Your Kisses (The Birds and The Bees) [2]
Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: (that is the longest relationship tag ive ever had to type myself), Almost Erotic Massage, Ambiguous Genitals, Arguments, Background Relationships, Body Worship, Cunnilingus, Domestic Fluff, Eating out, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fingering, Fluff and Smut, Graphic Description, Here come the long ass smut tags y'all ready, House building, Intercrural Sex, Kid Fic, Less Ambiguous Genitals but still not too descriptive, Light BDSM, M/M, Marking, Masochist Snufkin, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Moomin has a knot, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Pining, Oh yes, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Penetrative Sex, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Slow Burn, as par for the course when you're writing a pregnancy fic, birth scene, body image issues, but basically it's the kid fic with extra smut I always wanted but never wrote, but not really, but only cause snufkin is too horny, but rarely, emotional angst, i dont know which one hhhhh, just in case, oblivious idiots, the background relationships are mostly alluded to but sometimes they are plot points
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2020-04-05 07:33:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 70,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19043995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/g0ryllama/pseuds/g0ryllama
Summary: It’s a week into Winter, three weeks after The Event, that Snufkin has a Revelation of sorts, staring up into the cold night sky, watching the stars pass, missing Moomin again.He's never been pregnant before, but hopefully this won't go badly.





	1. 1st Trimester

**Author's Note:**

> Okay y'all, welcome to part 2!
> 
> This is your usual disclaimer: this fic is full of sex so if you don't like that turn back now
> 
> I...want them to have cute kids. That's all.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> !!! Announcement! I made a playlist of all the songs I associate with/listen to as I write this fic, it's [here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLVk5p5O6yPoDSh94Z46jtxNAH1YxJTwty) if you wanna listen!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Snufkin discovers he's pregnant and travels back to Moominvalley

It’s a week into Winter, three weeks after The Event, that Snufkin has a Revelation of sorts, staring up into the cold night sky, watching the stars pass, missing Moomin _again_.

It hadn’t crossed his mind before, the simple thought of that night making him break out into a sweat, blushing and unable to calm himself down without copious amounts of that mind-numbing herb he found a few days ago.

He let Moomintroll _mate_ him, basically asked for it, would beg for it all over again, because he has no sense of self preservation when it comes to Moomin. A fatal flaw.

The thought had crossed his mind without warning, sudden and scary, the way revelations tend to occur.

Snufkin could be pregnant with Moomin's child.

Of course, he waves it off. What a ridiculous notion! He's never been pregnant before, and absolutely nothing about that night would change that, he's sure.

(But he isn't sure at all, the night completely different to every other experience he's ever had.)

Maybe if he had a better understanding of how his heats worked, then he could be sure, but his mother, the Mymble, was never exactly very informative about such things.

She had always been very blasé about the issue, essentially only telling Snufkin that he would experience heats and what he needed to do in order to satisfy the heat, but other than that, Snufkin has had to either learn or guess the rest on his own.

He's not felt any of the 'signifiers' of pregnancy, and he's rather glad about that.

He's not ready for a child. He may never be.

* * *

 

Another week passes and the snow has thickly coated the ground where ever he walks, but he's headed south almost desperately, not so much for the usual reasons.

His heat hasn't hit yet, which isn't that unusual; usually it comes around just after the new year.

Snufkin's just ill, and the warmer climes would certainly help make him feel better, of that he's sure.

The roiling of his stomach stops his hurried footsteps as he leans on a tree and throws up, what little amount of water he'd managed to keep down that morning at least making the acid easier to bring up.

"Ugh…" Snufkin groans, head pounding. He doesn't want to drink anything, can't think of putting anything in his mouth without needing to throw up again, but he fears dehydration more than being sick again.

The sky is beginning to darken anyway, so he decides to set up camp, moving sluggishly and trying to keep his mouth shut as his tent goes up, creating a fire for some weak tasting soup. Last time he was ill during the Winter, he could only manage to eat a small amount of potato soup, with no flavouring, but it was enough to keep him alive (although Mamma had panicked when he returned smaller than he'd left, and fed him pancakes until he was back to a healthy weight).

He smiles softly as he stirs the water in the pot, remembering how Moomin and his family cared so much about everyone. Being alone and sick was so much worse than being cared for, but at least he wasn't worrying anyone out here.

Hopefully this would all pass in a few days. Snufkin's really not got anything to worry about.

* * *

 

Halfway through Winter finds Snufkin not as far south as he'd like to be, but that's less of a problem considering the fact that his heat still hasn't hit.

He had considered that maybe being thrown into a forced heat and having that one solved could have been enough to send his heat cycle into disarray, and maybe he wouldn't get heats in Winter anymore, but in Autumn (when Moomin could help him…).

No, he's sure that's not how it works. In the back of his mind he can vaguely remember his mother mentioning recreational heats not affecting cycles. The Autumn heat would've been classed as one of those.

This is a worst case scenario kind of problem, he thinks as he vomits again, not even able to hold down the potato soup he makes anymore. Snufkin's thankful that Moomin had hidden some dried fruits in his pack when he wasn't looking, because at least he can eat those when he isn't feeling terrible.

He's sure now, he thinks. He's never had an illness last a month before, and it scares him to admit it.

Snufkin is definitely pregnant.

If he was a lesser man, he'd have a lot of nasty words to say about that.

Oh how he'd love to be able to deny it, to pretend this was just a bad stomach bug, but the sickness, the cravings when he isn't feeling sick, the tiredness he feels, the ache in his chest and his emotions being completely unpredictable tells him he really can't ignore it anymore.

The cranberries he's chewing begin to taste sour, panic filling him. He needs to return to Moominvalley.

* * *

 

The travel back is slow, but at least he knows where he's going. The sickness is beginning to slow down, meaning he can now eat his soup again, and Snufkin can feel himself regaining his strength.

If he calculates it right, he should be back about two weeks before Spring, by which time he'll be three months pregnant.

The word still sends fear through his veins, but something about it has him feeling a lot more cautious, his hand on his stomach as he walks, even though there's barely any difference there yet.

It's not all bad, he admits, skipping across a small stream, a breeze from the north chilling him to the bone. Despite the up and down, rollercoaster-esque emotions, he's been feeling generally pretty happy. It's likely a biological way of ensuring he doesn't hate being pregnant, but that doesn't sour it.

And yet, somehow, Snufkin always has to bring everything back down to earth.

Realistically, he knows it's not going to be pleasant the whole nine months, and that's just the pregnancy itself. What about what Moomin will think? He said he didn't think he was ready for kids with Snorkmaiden, so it's likely he meant in general. And what about Snorkmaiden? Moomin's actual partner? That's definitely not going to go well, he's sure of that. If only he hadn't gotten knocked up, then Snorkmaiden would never have to find out they had sex. (A small part of him is jealous that nobody would even be surprised if it was Snorkmaiden in this position and not him).

Not forgetting that there's Moominmamma and Moominpappa and Little My, and his own parents, and their other friends, and the other inhabitants of Moominvalley… They're all likely to have opinions, and none of them very good.

His hand absent-mindedly rubs circles on his stomach slowly, and a small smile forms on his face in spite of himself. He's scared, and worried, and frightened above all else, but if the worst came to the worst, he knows he can look after both of them on his own if he has to, the thought the only thing preventing him from running away _before_ telling Moomin.

He has a Plan B.

Something tells him he won't be needing it.

* * *

 

There's still plenty of snow coating the world as he reaches the forests surrounding Moominvalley, the beach to his left and the mountains not too far in front of him. Snufkin sighs in relief and apprehension when he spies the red roof of Moominhouse over the treetops.

"Not long before we can be warm again, little one." Snufkin hums quietly, following the path he always takes to the bridge, counting the number of trees he passes to stop his mind from trying to convince him to run in the opposite direction and never look back.

And then he's there, the large house looming over him, the only colour beside white and green for miles around. The snow is so thick he can barely see the front door, and so instead he opts for knocking on the closest window he can reach, hoping and dreading that it's Moomintroll who answers.

Snufkin just starts to hope that he doesn't smell like vomit when a face peers out of the window at him, white and soft and with bright blue eyes that grow wide at the sight of Snufkin just below the windowsill.

"Snufkin?" Moomintroll asks, voice distrusting and confused as he throws open the window, leaning out and looking around.

A warmth resonates from him and the open window, and Snufkin knows he can't run now. "Hello, Moomintroll."

Suddenly spurred into action, Moomin holds his arms out to help Snufkin inside, and he accepts, putting a foot up on the ledge and letting Moomin pull him in, strong and steady.

"Hey," he responds, keeping an arm around him as he pulls the window shut. "What are you doing back so soon?"

"What are you doing awake, again?" Snufkin rebutes, feeling himself turn red the longer Moomin holds onto him.

Rolling his eyes, Moomin moves away and steals Snufkin's hat, heading down the stairs like he's expecting him to follow, so he does, fondly exasperated.

"Where's Little My?"

"She's with your mother, actually."

Well that's news to him. "The Mymble's here?"

Moomintroll places the hat high on the tree in the living room, out of Snufkin's reach, before nodding and helping him set his pack down. "Mhmm. She did ask after you, but you'd already gone."

Snufkin frowns at his hat, mind elsewhere. Why would she come back? Not that it's a bad thing, or that she shouldn't, it's just annoying that when he needs less of an audience he gains another spectator. "I suppose I should pay them a visit soon then."

Nodding, Moomintroll sits on the sofa, watching him where he stands. "I'm sure she'd be delighted to see you, just like I am." There's a silent 'but I want to know why you're here' at the end of his words, eyes full of concern.

Snufkin sighs, not really sure what to say next. Moomin obviously deserves to know that Snufkin is carrying his child, but first he needs to throw up.

"Be right back." He explains hurriedly, rushing up the stairs and only just making it to the bathroom, embarrassed but grateful for the moomins having a toilet.

Moomintroll knocks on the door not long after Snufkin shut it, stopping when the sound of him retching echoes on the tiled walls, and he bursts in. "Oh no, Snuff, hold on." He says, although Snufkin can barely hear it, ears ringing with pressure.

He sighs when a cool flannel is pressed against his forehead, a paw holding back his hair. It feels nice, so much nicer than being on his own in this situation, and gentle, enough to bring him almost to tears (he can blame that on the hormones).

Eventually, when the dry heaving stops and he's managed to keep down the glass of water Moomin brought him, he stands from the floor, thanking his friend as he helps keep him steady, leading him back to the living room.

There, they sit, awkwardly silent, worry written all over Moomin's face.

"Are you ill?"

"You could say that…" Snufkin sighs, crossing his legs up under his thighs, facing Moomin full on.

"... Are you going to tell me?"

"Not yet…"

Moomintroll nods, understanding and patient as always. "When you're ready then."

Snufkin nods, letting out a sigh, rubbing at his eyes a little. It's not fair to not tell him, really, his kindness only driving that home. "... I can't keep it from you, it wouldn't be fair. But please don't freak out."

Moomintroll laughs quietly, confusing Snufkin. "Sounds like when we were in that cave and I thought you were ill then, but then you said something like that and it was just your heat."

He's got a point. He didn't freak out then, and nothing terrible changed within their friendship. What's the worst that will happen?

"Moomintroll, I think I'm pregnant."

"Oh well that's oka- wait… What?!"

Not the response Snufkin wanted, nor the one he'd expected, almost reeling back at the shock in Moomin's voice. Is it really that bad?

"Shit sorry, I didn't mean it like that, it's just a surprise…" Moomin looks like he might be sick next, and that's enough for Snufkin to stand, trying to reach his hat so he can run away and never come back.

The front door opens, some snow falling into a pile in the doorway as Little My tunnels her way through, eyes twinkling with mischief. "What's this? Snufkin's home?"

He freezes, arm outstretched, hearing Moomin almost fall off of the sofa. "Hi Little My."

"I saw your footprints in the snow and thought I'd follow them. Imagine my surprise when they led to the moomins house," She closes the door, hopping onto a branch of the tree close to Snufkin's face. "What might you be doing back so soon?"

"I wanted to… Come home?" He doesn't mean to end it on a question, but is it home if he wants to run so badly?

"Home…?" Moomin whispers from the sofa, and Snufkin decides that yes, it really is.

Little My makes an exasperated sound, rolling her eyes so dramatically her head moves with the action. "Missed your boyfriend more like. Good news is, he was pining for you the whole Winter anyway, it's why I went to stay with mother."

They both turn glares onto her, and she shrugs, smile wide and full of teeth. "Just try and deny it, lover boys, we all know I'm right."

She says her goodbyes, leaving as suddenly as she came, stating that she was only interested in finding out the owner of the footprints.

Silence fills the room, and Snufkin turns to face Moomintroll, fully prepared to be told to leave, or to see disgust or anger or something negative in his face. Instead, he finds only mild panic, and a bright happiness.

Confused, he frowns, stepping back when Moomin stands. "What?"

"A child of our own…" His voice sounds far away and dreamy, his ears flickering a little, his eyes fixed somewhere around Snufkin's torso. "What do we do now?"

Snufkin lets out a huge sigh of relief, the urge to run fading. "Nothing yet, no one can know."

Moomin nods slowly, like he's understanding things through a layer of treacle. "What about when it's obvious?"

"That won't be for another few weeks at least. We've got time to figure things out." Snufkin presses back against the tree as Moomin steps into his space, breathing in the joy and only slight apprehension coming off of him in waves.

"Can't we at least tell Mamma? She can keep secrets, and she'll know how to help with the pregnancy and keeping you well."

They stay quiet for a moment, the conversation not really matching the atmosphere around them, heated and tense and panicked and elated all at once.

Snufkin reaches up a little and presses a kiss to the top of Moomin's snout, blushing hard but unable to stop himself.

"Oh Snufkin, what have we done?" Moomin breathes out, and Snufkin has to wonder the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 👀
> 
> I am...making up everything as I go along. I don't think mymble or mumrik pregnancies would be too dissimilar from human pregnancies hence the similarity.
> 
> Also Snufkin...I'm sorry for putting you through this 
> 
> Also also! Obviously it's gonna be ooc. This is just all super indulgent for me
> 
> Thanks!


	2. 1st Trimester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the boys tell Mamma of their 'problem'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edited the tags a little, please have another look (5.6.19)

Moomin has a peculiar look on his face when he steps back, almost like he wants to declare something big but is thinking better of it, possibly a little too hard.

"Can I…?" His paws hover awkwardly in front of Snufkin's stomach and he laughs shyly.

"You won't feel anything yet, but be my guest."

He places his paws over his lower stomach, and it's a little awkward, especially when nothing happens, but they both laugh it off, avoiding each other's gaze when his paws fall away. "I'll um… Go and wake Mamma, and then we can all talk."

Snufkin watches him walk upstairs, and it suddenly dawns on him that there's no going back now.

He knew, of course. Had known that no matter how 'prepared' he was to run away, he'd never be able to do it, but now, faced with the fact that Moomin  _ still _ doesn't hate him despite the fact that he's probably the root of all of their problems by now, it feels like he has no backup.

Neither of them mentioned Snorkmaiden, and he has to wonder why she wasn't the first thought Moomin had when Snufkin announced his big news; that would be the logical next thought right? To think of one's actual partner when confronted with the fact that your one night stand is carrying your child? And what will Moominmamma think of him?

He hears a clamour upstairs and he wonders what Moomin told her to wake her up, but there's panic clear in both of their voices, so maybe Moomin was just in shock earlier and now it's all becoming clear to him suddenly.

Mamma looks worried when her eyes land on him, apron tied wrong and skewed, handbag obviously in hand. "Oh Snufkin, dear, it's so good to have you here."

"Likewise, Mamma. Moomintroll, what did you tell her?" He crosses his arms over his chest, trying to keep his own panic down.

"Just that we had an emergency." Moomin wrings his paws together bashfully when met by Snufkin's frown.

He turns to Moominmamma and smiles awkwardly. "It's really nothing to panic about…" He groans internally, like he didn't panic himself, or more honestly hasn't stopped.

"Well no matter how big of a problem, I'm sure I'll be able to help. Why don't you sit down, and we'll talk about it." Mamma smiles, and the three of them sit on the sofa, Snufkin in the middle, Moomin much too close for comfort.

Neither of them say anything, the silence thicker now there's someone else to explain to.

"You know nothing will surprise me, don't you?" There's a knowing look on Mamma's face when she speaks, and Moomin caves the way he always does.

"Snufkin is pregnant, Mamma."

She nods slowly before seeming to understand, nodding a little quicker. "Oh congratulations, dear. I'm guessing this is your first time?"

Surprised by how well she's taking it, Snufkin nods, neither of them saying that it's Moomin's child yet (he's not sure she'd take that as easily, being told you're going to be a grandma is probably more shocking than being told your son's best friend is pregnant).

"Well then, let's look at granny's book and see what she has to say about mymble pregnancies," She announces, and Moomin stands, rushing to the bookcase and bringing it back for her. "Hmm, pregnancy… Ah, there."

She shuffles closer, holding the book over Snufkin's lap so the three of them can look at it, sliding her finger along the lines she's reading.

As they read, Snufkin becomes steadily more and more horrified, eyes widening with each word he takes in. It's not all bad, not nearly as bad as human pregnancies (he'd read about them in a library far south once, never again), most of it seemingly easy, but there's so much more to it than carrying the child for nine months and then out it comes (which was what he had been led to believe).

"Seems we should keep an eye on you while you are pregnant," Mamma hums quietly, clearly not as panicked as Snufkin is. "And feed you plenty, but otherwise I'm sure it will all go swimmingly. Not to mention your mother is here, and I'm sure she'd be delighted to help. Oh her first grandchild, Mymble is going to be so proud!"

Snufkin wants to laugh. Or maybe cry. Maybe both. He turns to Moomin, and finds him looking about twice as scared. Of course, he never would've had to know about this kind of stuff before today, so it's all new to him.

Mamma follows his line of sight and something seems to click in her mind, although what Snufkin doesn't know. "Moomintroll dear, won't you go make us all some nice relaxing tea?"

He stands, seemingly in a daze, shuffling to the kitchen with his tail dragging low on the ground behind him. Snufkin finds himself tapping his fingers against his leg almost frantically, mind racing.

So much could go wrong. If he's malnourished (which he probably is after not eating most of the Winter) the baby might struggle to grow. If he smokes too much it might badly affect the baby. Even if nothing goes wrong actively, everything could still go badly, painfully.

If he's not careful he could lose the baby. The thought fills him with such a deep horror his knuckles turn white as he grips his trousers.

"Snufkin dear, everything will be fine," Mamma covers his hands with her paws, a gentle, knowing look on her face. "If you're anything like your mother, this will go as smoothly as possible."

"But what if I'm not? What if it goes badly? What if I lose them…? What if neither of us make it? I'm not ready to be a dad, Mamma, but there's nothing I can do to change it."

The kettle whistles in the kitchen, but it barely registers in his mind. He'd almost forgotten in his instinctual love for the being inside of him that this isn't the ideal situation.

She nods in understanding, closing the book and putting it to the side. "If you're worried about the responsibility," there's no judgement as she says this, a deep understanding of his nature. "You know that any family of yours is family of ours. If you need a break for any reason, Moominhouse is open."

He refrains from saying that technically the baby  _ is _ biologically their family too, but the sentiment does put him at ease a little. Snufkin wouldn't want to be as distant a father as the Joxter had been to him, but it's reassuring to know that should he need a break there's someone there.

Still. Birth sounds painful.

"Besides, pregnancy isn't that hard. You'll be surprised." Mamma smiles at him lovingly, and Snufkin can't help but smile back, soothed enough that he doesn't feel quite as sick as before. 

Moomintroll shuffles back in, three tea cups in his paws. Snufkin thanks him softly as he takes his mug, sipping it carefully.

They all sit and drink their tea, a lot calmer and relaxed now they've all had a chance to think.

"So, how did this come around, Snufkin?"

He chokes on his next sip, and finds Moomintroll in much the same situation, eyes wide and cheeks burning with embarrassment. Snufkin's eyes tear up as he tries to expel the tea from his lungs, but he hears Mamma's soft exclamation like an explosion to his sense of dignity.

"Oh… Oh my," Moomintroll looks like he might bolt out of the front door and never return as Mamma continues to speak. "Moomintroll, why didn't you tell me?"

"Mamma…"

Snufkin breathes in sharply and finds himself wishing he had his hat in hand.

"I'm going to be a grandma!" Her excitement is palpable, if a little delayed, and she looks almost like she's exaggerating. Knowing Mamma, she probably guessed when they first told her Snufkin is pregnant. "I must tell Pappa."

"No!" Snufkin and Moomintroll shout at the same time, making Mamma laugh joyously. "We don't want anyone to know yet."

"Okay okay, I won't," she relents, standing and pulling the both of them into a hug. "But they'll find out soon enough anyway. Maybe have a think about how you're going to announce it."

Snufkin feels Moomin slide his arm around Snufkin's waist to pull him closer, and he smiles in spite of everything.

"Well, I'd better go back into hibernation for the last two weeks," Mamma announces as she steps back, pride shining in her eyes. "Enjoy the alone time."

Mamma winks at them and Snufkin wants to die. Moomin also seems to want the same thing, avoiding looking at either of them.

She heads back up the stairs, excitement visible in every step she takes, and Snufkin finds he can't blame her.

"So… Two weeks left of Winter…" Moomin says, his voice low but still clearly a little bashful. It's understandable after being caught out by your parent.

Snufkin nods, not really sure what he's insinuating but the unsaid 'alone' hangs in the air around them. They lock eyes, and Snufkin finds himself hoping against all hope that this means… Well, he doesn't want to admit what he hopes it means. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have such a deep love for moominmamma yall dont even understand, shes so soft and knowing and clever


	3. 1st Trimester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Snufkin finds out that some of his worries are unnecessary and the boys make a plan

The first week of staying-awake-when-everyone-hibernates goes mostly smoothly. Moomin spends most of it either sleeping to at least get a little more hibernating done or doting on Snufkin, who refuses to sleep in Moominhouse.

They hadn’t argued as such but Snufkin had stormed out when Moomin (once again, for the third time) tried to convince him to nap with him. It's not that the thought of curling up with Moomintroll and waking up in his arms is a bad one; far from it, it's too tempting. Snufkin doesn't want to get used to it before it inevitably stops once the whole pregnancy situation is over.

So he sleeps in his tent, surrounded by pillows and blankets just to keep warm, and tries to not get upset about the lack of moomin in his bed.

They're not a couple, they're just caught up in a difficult situation. Snufkin shouldn't be yearning for his touch and his warmth the way he does.

One morning he'd snuck out Granny's book again, and re-read the pages about mymble pregnancies, sometimes having to flip the pages to something inconspicuous whenever Little My arrived out of the blue. But from what he'd gathered, feeling too attached to the father had nothing to do with the pregnancy itself; his mother always had no problem being separate from her many lovers, for example.

No, this was all on Snufkin.

The only logical thing to do is to stay as detached as possible, right?

Maybe not, if Moomin keeps making such delicious pancakes as the ones he's currently eating. Warm, fluffy and sweet, Snufkin would eat them for the rest of his life if he could. Ever since his cooking almost gave everyone food poisoning a few years ago, Mamma had been teaching her son how to cook to save everyone from another bad experience.

"Are they nice?" Moomintroll asks from the kitchen, plating up his own food before sitting down opposite the mumrik.

Snufkin nods appreciatively, blushing softly at the proud smile that lightens up Moomin's entire existence for a few seconds. "Almost as good as Mamma's."

The other laughs, taking a bite of his own pancakes and they eat in silence, listening to the birds singing in the trees, not as loud as they would in the Spring. Snufkin frowns a little when he realises he hasn't thought about his new Spring tune yet. Nothing springs to mind, and he tries to not let it slide him into another panic.

"Snuff?" Moomin waves a paw in front of his eyes. "Where did you go?"

Confused, he stares at his hands and then back at Moomintroll. "What do you mean?"

"I asked what was wrong and you didn't answer so I thought it was nothing but your face said otherwise."

Snufkin sighs and lets his head drop onto the table with a bang. He's rarely so dramatic but this moment warrants it, he feels. Moomin stands and rubs a paw around his back soothingly, if a little awkwardly, keeping quiet because he knows what's good for him. He feels even worse thinking that, and tries to resist the urge to crawl out of his skin; he can’t let his worries and problems sour his view of sweet Moomintroll.

"I don't know what I'm doing," his voice is muffled by the wood and table cloth, and he ignores the questioning hum Moomin responds with to sink further down in his seat. "How can I be a parent when I can barely decide things for myself?"

The circular motion of Moomin's paw stops, a heavy pressure on the small of his back, but it's not bad. "... What's this about? Really, actually about?"

Snufkin sighs and brings his head back up, eyes blurry from being unfocused. "So many things," he resists the urge to fall sideways into Moomin, although his warmth and soft fur are almost irresistible. "I don't know where my head is."

Chuckling quietly, Moomin slides his paw through Snufkin's hair with a friendly ease, the touch light but there. "Well I think it's here."

It's all terribly sweet, but it just makes Snufkin want to cry.

"I think Mamma said that was called 'baby brain', when your mother was pregnant last time she was here."

Rolling his eyes, Snufkin finishes his pancakes (now cold and soggy and not any less delicious) before huffing. "Whatever it is, it's annoying me."

Moomin sits back down and shrugs, pouring Snufkin out some lemonade and passing it to him. "So we talk it out. Whatever is on your mind that's confusing you."

The lemonade tastes refreshing and slightly sour, and he wonders if it would taste sweeter from Moomin's mouth. Oh no, that's not a thought that’s allowed. "Okay yes first of all, how are we going to tell everyone?"

The other freezes and it dawns on Snufkin that he hadn't even thought of that. How nice it must be to have your head in the clouds so often. "Oh… Well… Mamma said she wanted to hold a Spring party this year before we went into hibernation, so everyone will be here then… We could just announce it."

Nodding slowly, Snufkin crosses his arms. "And when they ask 'Since when were you two a thing?'"

A flash of something… Almost hurt rushes across Moomin's eyes but it passes just as quickly as it came, and it could just be Snufkin projecting his own strange feelings onto him anyway, nothing to read into. "Well maybe we don't tell them I'm… You know…"

Snufkin feels his heart drop a little at his inability to say it, but he understands. "Moomintroll, they'll figure it out. And if they don't I'd rather them know we… Yeah, rather than it being a random stranger."

Moomin frowns a little, and Snufkin almost regrets bringing it all up. "Okay then… We pretend to be together."

Well he wasn't expecting that. "What?"

"You heard me. We pretend to be a couple. No one will ask any awkward questions, everything will make sense, and then our child won't be gossiped about as much. It's logical."

Snufkin can't feel any of his extremities anymore, his breathing shallow and quick, and his stomach threatens to empty itself. "I… I think we're forgetting someone…"

At Moomin's perplexed look, Snufkin feels the urge to cry double. Why does he have to spell everything out? "Snorkmaiden?"

"Oh," Moomin turns a dark red colour, and he looks away. "We… Broke up ages ago…?"

Snufkin suddenly feels like the living embodiment of a confused frown; equal parts angry and out of his depth. "You mean… After my heat?"

Nodding, Moomin stands up and begins pacing, a guilty look on his face. "I forgot to tell you… We didn't want people to know before you left and then we told everyone at the hibernation party after you'd left and I guess it just slipped my mind…?"

"... How… Does that slip your mind…?" He's disproportionately angry now, he knows he's taking it too far, but he can't stop himself. "I've been panicking all Winter over how to explain to her that I let you, her boyfriend, help me with my heat, let alone properly mate me, all the while she didn't even cross your mind because you weren't together?! And you broke up after that night? And you couldn't tell me the same day?!"

"Well to be honest, Snufkin, you were avoiding me!"

"For very good reasons, such as feeling guilty for having sex with my  _ taken _ best friend! I've been agonising over this for so long, and it was all for nothing?! Of course I was avoiding you, what did you expect?!"

"I thought we were fine after it! And then you stopped talking to me, and you left without saying goodbye, you know, I've barely slept the entire Winter because I was too worried that I'd hurt you enough to make you leave, wondering if you'd ever come back! The only reason I was awake when you came back is because I was so worried about you, Snufkin!"

Moomin has never shouted at him like that before, eyes full of pain and hurt and tail wagging furiously behind him. They both breathe harshly, throats dry and aching. Snufkin feels tears pool in his eyes at the unfairness of it all, at his own idiocy. How had he not noticed that he was hurting his best friend in trying to protect him? "... I'm sorry, Moomin…"

The troll sighs loudly, shoulders dropping before he looks at his feet. "Me too… We should've just talked."

The anger still boils beneath the surface, and Snufkin knows he needs to deal with it now before it explodes again, so he takes a step forward slow enough to give Moomintroll the chance to walk away before he tentatively holds onto his paws. "Miscommunication is the worst."

Nodding solemnly, Moomin squeezes his hands gently, and the anger starts to fade (exactly as he knew it would). "Well… We can be better from now." He gives Snufkin a small smile that doesn't really reach his eyes but his tail isn't whipping through the air anymore, and his claws have retracted so the mumrik counts it as a win.

The rest of the day is spent barely talking, atmosphere still tense enough despite the apologies to make sure they keep their distance from one another.

It gives Snufkin the chance to compartmentalise the fact that Moomin is single, and willing to pretend to be in a relationship with him of all people just so the others won't ask prying questions that they can't answer honestly. It's all a little mind-boggling, he finds, messing with his emotions in a way he doesn't really appreciate.

If Moomin wants to play at happy families, Snufkin can play along too. Just as long as it stays as a falsehood.

A small voice in the back of his head tells him that he should just admit to Moomin now that he wants them to be together for real before the rest of him tells the voice to shut up. He doesn't have time for treacherous thoughts.

Snufkin dreads the fallout, can feel his heart yearning for more than false pretences and fake romance. It's going to tear him up, and as much as he doesn't want a tense co-parenting relationship for their child, when the other shoe drops, there's no way it won't hurt them all.

But he finds he can't argue with it, the part of him desperate for anything from Moomin taking control for him. Heart over head.

Moomintroll catches his gaze from across the sofa, reading a book, and Snufkin feels the breath knocked from his lungs as his stomach churns. Maybe some misplaced hope will do him good, for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me sliding a pair of sunglasses over another pair, already there, but these ones are rainbow, because i forgot to say before: happy pride month everyone, have some gay idiots, from a similarly idiotic pan binch
> 
> i know i took the easy way out by having moomin and snorkmaiden break up but i cant...hurt snorkmaiden any more than i need to, shes my precious child and i want her to be happy, she deserves happiness and someone who will love her completely goddamn it
> 
> anyway, hope you enjoyed yall!


	4. 1st Trimester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Snufkin gets a massage and dies inside

Waking up in a cold, damp tent is a lot less enjoyable when the blankets and cushions you've curled up inside are similarly as soggy as the rest of the tent. Snufkin groans groggily, rubbing at his eyes and shoving the thick cover off of himself, grimacing at his damp clothes.

He opens his bag and finds his spare clothes he keeps for emergencies, and begins to change when something stops him in his tracks.

The swell of his stomach reaches out a little further than it used to. Not enough to be noticeable to anyone who hasn't seen him naked, but there for sure. Snufkin feels a little uncomfortable, pulling his spare undershirt on to hide it away and quickly ignoring everything else as he finishes dressing.

Suddenly he's hit with the realisation that he'll need different clothes eventually, because he'll definitely outgrow his current outfits. Just another thing that adds unnecessary stress to the whole situation.

Stepping out of his tent, Snufkin hums distractedly, finding a melancholy tune has come to him along the slow, slushy river. Digging his harmonica out of his pocket he tries to replicate the sound in his head to no avail. He sighs, trying to let the melody come to him, closing his eyes and breathing out slowly.

The wind rustles the evergreens lightly, a gentle shushing background that elevates the steady droplets of snowmelt dripping from the roof of Moominhouse. A pattern of three, a waltz. Beneath it all is the quiet movement of the land, almost alive beneath his feet, and the melody comes to him all of a sudden.

Taking a deep inhale before he forgets, Snufkin plays with caution so as to not wake the slumbering creatures of the valley. The tune lilts upwards as he feels the first inkling of normalcy return to his bones at finally having a Spring tune again. Free, if only in this one moment.

Something white catches his eye from the veranda and he stops playing when Moomintroll waves so he can wave back. There's something soft and almost proud in the other's sky blue eyes, and his stomach flips.

* * *

 

He's still not quite over the whole Snorkmaiden situation, he finds, watching Moomintroll give a detailed account of the day they broke up. Snufkin is loathe to admit it, but a squeeze of jealousy wraps around his heart when Moomin says they'd hugged.

It's what he'd feared originally. Emotions are so very messy, and quite often don't match what Snufkin believes he should be feeling, leaving a sour taste in his mouth that doesn't go, no matter how much honey he adds to his tea.

"I told her that I wasn't ready for a serious relationship yet, but I don't think she believed me," Moomin says, finger twirling around his tail absent-mindedly. "Although I did say she deserves someone better, who'd love her wholeheartedly."

Snufkin nods in slight agreement. He's biased, unable to believe that there's anyone better than Moomin in the whole entire universe, but Snorkmaiden shouldn't have to be involved in whatever weird, semi-fake relationship they have going on. He makes a mental note to apologise to her, even if she has no idea why. Just another thing he has to remember on top of everything else.

As Moomin continues on, almost rambling at this point, Snufkin's thoughts trail down a completely separate path, without his permission, despite the tension and worry still cycling through him.

They're still only friends, he tries to remind himself, but that's hard to remember when he can't stop staring at Moomin's paws and remembering how they felt on his hips as he slid inside of him. Can't ignore the way his slightly sharper canines glint in the light when he opens his mouth and how that reminds him of how he tastes. Can't not think of how heavy he'd felt on top of him, how reassuring, how _deep_ he had, and would, let him go (physically and figuratively).

Snufkin's thighs rub together a little as he tries to not think of Moomintroll opening him up slowly and deliciously, taking his time because he's not in heat and they have all the time in the world. Or maybe he would just push Snufkin down onto the sofa and take him without a second thought, right now.

A sigh escapes his lips before he has a chance to stop it, and he knows it came out much too breathy to be anything but obvious. Then again, Snufkin thinks as Moomin turns a concerned look on him, Moomintroll is as oblivious as he is observant.

"... I could give you a massage?"

"A massage?"

Moomin nods quickly, pulling out Granny's book and showing him a page about how other people can help someone who's pregnant. "Apparently it eases stress and tension and will just make you feel better all around. We could try?"

Snufkin reads the page and shrugs, trying not to let the panic he feels show on his face. Touching… Is not going to go well. "I don't see why not."

"Great!" He seems excited to be doing something to help, and Snufkin chuckles behind his hand. Cute. "I suppose I should start from the top and go down?"

Logically, there's no way that would be a euphemism, but Snufkin finds himself almost desperate for it to be. "Um, sure."

Moomintroll nods and moves behind the sofa where Snufkin is sat, taking his hat and putting it somewhere behind him. "If you close your eyes, it'll feel nicer I think."

So he does, trying to ignore the way Moomin's footsteps sound deafening without the visual noise around him, the hair on his skin rising in anticipation.

His paws gently card through his hair for just a moment, and Snufkin resists the urge to jolt, the touch just as electric as it had been when he was in heat. Slowly, the troll adds a careful pressure to his fingertips, rubbing circles into his scalp in a way that, miraculously, does ease some of the tension Snufkin was holding onto.

"Am I doing it okay?" Moomin whispers, and Snufkin hums in affirmation, shoulders dropping as he continues.

After a few minutes of the head massage, his paws slide down to Snufkin's neck, and the arousal that had started to fade away swings back in like a heated kick to his gut. Each careful rub of his fingertips pushes at nerves and tense muscles, pleasure spreading with every brush of fur.

Must be the hormones, Snufkin tries to reason despite the fact that he knows he can't blame everything on them yet.

He crosses his legs, willing the throbbing heat back where it won't be obvious, trying to ignore the shivers rushing down his spine as Moomin pushes his thumbs against the sensitive sides of his neck. Every touch burns like an aftershock when his fingers move away, and Snufkin can map each movement by how hot his skin feels.

If Moomintroll notices the redness of his ears he doesn't comment. Small mercies, perhaps. "How does it feel?"

He chooses this moment to slide his thumbs down a little, to the juncture of his shoulders, and Snufkin could melt as he rubs firmly against the muscle. "Feels good…"

Moomintroll laughs softly, pushing his thumbs in a little harder and leaning closer, resting his snout on the top of Snufkin's head. He crosses his legs in an attempt to tame the arousal when just not thinking about it doesn't work, but the friction caused by the movement only makes him moan softly. Moomin's fingers stop for a moment at the sound, and Snufkin notices that he isn't breathing, before he continues like nothing happened.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Snufkin feels a bit angry that the troll seems hell-bent on not acknowledging Snufkin's lust. Or maybe it's just the desperation making him snappy. Vaguely, he remembers his mother used to go to brothels more often when she was first pregnant. Maybe he can blame it all on the pregnancy then.

Moomin's fingers rub carefully around his shoulder blades, and the jolt of pressure goes straight to his crotch. He must be soaking wet by now, embarrassment the only thing keeping him from begging Moomin to… Have sex with him.

The massage continues for what feels like forever, slowly amping up the arousal to a point that's only slightly less than what he feels on his heat, and there's no way Moomin can't smell the pheromones he's putting off. "There. Do you feel less tense?"

Snufkin almost laughs, rolling his shoulders back when the other walks back to sit down again, shoving his hands in his lap as a last resort measure. "Yes, thank you."

If anything, he feels more tense, strung tightly enough that even the slightest nudge would have him splintering at the seams. But it was nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> snufkin is a horny ass boy rn, and im so sorry for putting him through that
> 
> will he get laid? you wont find out soon cause it may take me a while to update lmao, just warning yall before i disappear if i do cause i feel like i might just fuck off
> 
> i mean id rather not but i havent even started chapter 5 yet so it could take a while


	5. 1st Trimester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the boys relieve some of that tension

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 👀  
> slight warning for some kinky aspects, snuf gets a little masochistic

It wasn't nice. Not at all. Or at least not fair. Two days later, only a day or so before everyone will start waking up, Snufkin feels like he's about to explode.

He can tell there's something of the tension for Moomin too, in the way he holds himself, in the lack of space he allows Snufkin when he isn't consciously making an effort to stay as far away as possible. Sometimes he'll notice how their shoulders brush against each other when they're sat on the sofa and quickly shuffle away. Snufkin isn't offended so much as desperate.

Although, desperate almost feels like an understatement. He'd gone to bed that night, hoping the chill of sleeping outside would settle the heat, and woken up still very aroused and wanting. The rest of  _ that _ day had been a living hell, every touch and too-long look translating into a pulse of pleasure deep in his gut. On the one hand, it feels right, like being around Moomin  _ should  _ feel special and breathtaking. But on the other it feels wrong in every way; he can't let himself forget that they aren't a couple. If anything, it's more important to remember that they aren't. Worst case scenario if he forgets they're 'together', people will find out he sleeps around. Yet the worst case scenario if he forgets they aren't… Would be catastrophic.

Their friendship, no matter how strong, no matter how far they're both willing to go for each other, would definitely collapse, right?

Well, he'd thought that about them sharing his heat too. And telling him he's pregnant.

Being in love through all of that changes a lot though, of that he’s sure.

He'd gone to bed that night sad and dejected, and it seemed Moomintroll had too.

Shocking how much being horny can cause such emotional distress. It'd be funny if it wasn't happening to him.

There's only one way to solve this. He has to bite the bullet.

Across the sofa sits the subject of his desire, eyes fixated, much too distantly to actually be reading, on a book about… Designing houses? Snufkin frowns, a little confused, before shaking it off and plucking the book out of Moomintroll's paws, sliding the ribbon bookmark in between the pages before setting it down on the side table.

There's a hesitant look in the other's blue eyes when they lock gazes, but Snufkin isn't going to lose his cool, standing in front of him. "Everyone's going to start waking up soon, and I think we may have something to sort out before they do."

And it's pretty obvious what, especially when Moomin's gaze fades into something a little darker, the tension thick and internally Snufkin celebrates. "We should fuck it out right?"

Cringing at the crassness of his words, Snufkin nods regardless, biting his lip and looking pointedly at the stairs. "On a bed this time."

Moomin chuckles lightly as Snufkin steps back so he can stand, anticipation preceding the excitement and relief. Somehow it feels like their first time, even though Snufkin has very obvious proof that it isn’t. He follows Moomintroll up to his bedroom, and it feels so different to be in here for less than innocent reasons that it’s almost like the first time he’s stepped foot in it. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather do it in your tent again?” Snufkin’s pretty sure it’s a joke, although the look in Moomin’s eyes suggests a softness similar to how he gets whenever Snufkin complains about feeling sick. He’s doting again, giving Snufkin the option to do this on his terms.

“No, I want you to be comfortable.” Snufkin responds blankly, heart racing as he gets an idea.

There’s a soft click as Moomin locks the door, before shutting the window and closing the shutters. “Me?” There’s confusion in his voice, and Snufkin has to forcibly push down the need to grin.

“Mhmm, I’m going to ride you,” At the silence that follows, it suddenly dawns on Snufkin that Moomin is totally inexperienced. “Well, you’ll see.”

It’s an easy thing to forget when you’ve been sexually active for as long as he has, Snufkin decides, pointing to the bed without a further word when the troll begins to look nervous. He wants to explain but his patience is much too thinly spread out, and he doesn’t want to snap.

Moomin sits awkwardly on the edge of the bed, so the mumrik relents and kneels on the floor in front of him. “First of all, though, we need to have a discussion about how your anatomy works, because I need to know what I’m doing.”

There’s a sigh from above him that sounds equal parts relieved and anxious, and if it felt like their first time when they were coming up the stairs, it was nothing to how much it feels like it now. Poor Moomintroll. “... W-well, I guess you’re talking about my…”

Snufkin nods, waiting as patiently as he can for Moomin to continue, torn between staying still so as not to spook him or reaching into his trousers to relieve some of the heat between his legs.

“There’s a slit under the fur there,” Moomin begins, gesturing vaguely at his crotch, blushing darkly. It’s endearing, Snufkin finds, but he nods encouragingly. “Where it stays. It has to be coaxed out…”

“Okay, I think I get it,” he smiles gently, shuffling closer. “Can I?”

Excitement floods him, making his fingers shaky when Moomintroll nods slowly at first then more confidently, watching as Snufkin leans in and slides his hand across the fur on his lower stomach. He inhales sharply as Snufkin trails his fingers down, pressing lightly every now and then trying to find the slit Moomin mentioned. It must feel odd because the other starts laughing at each press, toes curling, almost like he’s ticklish.

Eventually, Snufkin finds it, pausing for a moment to let Moomintroll calm down before pressing two of his fingers inside gently, watching his face to make sure he isn’t being too fast about it all. His fingers rub along the tapered head of his cock, smooth and slightly sticky with precum, and he has to bite his lip so he doesn’t make any embarrassing sounds. Above him, Moomin groans quietly, paws gripping the bed sheets tightly.

Carefully, he slides his fingers deeper and grasps the shaft, finding it surprisingly easy to slide out of the sheath. In the light of day and not distracted by the overpowering need of being in heat, Snufkin can appreciate his cock a whole lot better. The dark purple of the tip looks similar to the colour of the plum jam they keep in their basement, fading into a lighter purple he’d probably compare to the bunches of lavender that grow in the valley in late Spring if asked. The head still has Snufkin’s stomach twisting impatiently, the phantom drag of the intriguing shape of it inside of him making him squirm, the memory reignited at the sight. But what sends his mind on a frenzy the most is the size. He’s not ashamed to say that Moomin is one of the biggest he’s taken, and he’s certainly not afraid to admit that he loves it, the thickness and length satisfying in a way no one else has ever been, filling him up and stretching him out almost to the point of discomfort.  _ And _ his knot… Honestly, Snufkin’s been absolutely spoiled.

He can barely resist sliding his tongue along the head, moaning almost silently at the taste, the warmth, the sensation. Moomin gasps, the sound far away and distant to Snufkin as his hand wraps around the thinnest part of the length, fingers only just touching. He wants it inside of him now, but he knows that to fully get rid of the tension they should probably take it slow (it’s absolutely not because Snufkin wants to enjoy every second of it). Instead, he does the next best thing and takes the tip into his mouth, struggling already with the girth. He’s just so  _ thick _ . 

Ignoring the effort he has to put in to not give up, Snufkin swirls his tongue languidly around the head, delighting in the shocked groan it pulls from Moomintroll. The taste is deep, heady, so unique on his tongue there’s no way he’ll ever forget it. Absently, he takes note of the steady leaking of his entrance, his underwear uncomfortably wet, and realises somewhat disappointedly that he won’t be able to keep this up for too long without dying of overheating.

He sucks lightly, mapping out every curve and edge of Moomin in his mouth, committing it to memory for recreational purposes (which doesn't make him feel creepy at all).

Snufkin pulls off with a desperate inhale, jaw aching and lips stinging from the stretch, but it’s all worth it when Moomin’s cock throbs hotly in his hand. They stare at each other for a moment before Snufkin starts to stand, knees weak but determined to ride Moomin until he can’t think of anything else.

“Lie back,” he instructs, dropping his trousers onto the floor before crawling onto the bed. Moomintroll scrambles back along the mattress, eyes fixed on Snufkin as he pulls his shirt off with haste, arms awkwardly placed on the bed. “Just… Do whatever feels right.”

Moomin nods, shuffling back again so he can watch better (or at least that’s what Snufkin hopes), eyes trailing unabashed down Snufkin’s body slowly, maybe even appreciatively. He ignores the instinctual desire to hide his body, dropping his shirt onto the pile with his trousers, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear suggestively. It makes them both laugh a little at how ridiculous it all is, but Snufkin can see the desire in Moomin's eyes despite the humour, and why does it matter if it's silly?

Shifting awkwardly to slide the uncomfortably wet clothing off his legs, the air seems to shift subtly into something a lot softer than just tension and awkward humour.

"I don't think I told you last time," Moomintroll begins, rays of sunshine landing across him through the slats of the shutters, setting his fur alight with a glow somewhat precious. "But you're breathtaking…"

Stunned, Snufkin tries not to tear up, flattered and confused and insulted all at once in a mix that coupled with the unending desire sends him dizzy. "You… Oh." How dare he suddenly act all smooth, doesn't he know what that does to a guy?

Moomin smiles, and Snufkin can't stop himself from crawling over and taking his face in his hands, silently hoping and yet also wishing that he doesn't see the emotion, clear as day, bleeding into his eyes as he leans in and nuzzles his nose slowly against Moomin's snout. The troll's eyes close, and they pull apart slowly. Snufkin looks away anyway, suddenly deeply embarrassed and much too emotional for the situation.

"I made it too soft right?"

Snufkin laughs softly, nodding. "You have a talent for making things soft. The atmosphere? Those pancakes? Me? A very talented Moomintroll."

Moomintroll shrugs, a blush under his eyes but a teasing look on his face. "I can be less soft...?"

There's a thought. "... Next time."

Moomin seems shocked and it takes a while for Snufkin to realise why, but then he hides his face in his hands and groans. "Next time, Snuff...? I'd like that." His voice sounds gentle, like he's trying to coax him out of his embarrassment, and it works.

And if there's going to be a next time, then he shouldn't be embarrassed right? Plenty of people have sex with their friends, it's not like this changes too much… Snufkin takes a deep breath before sliding into Moomin's lap, holding onto his shoulders and hoping he isn't blushing too much. "Me too, but there won't be a  _ next _ time if we don't have this time right?"

Nodding, Moomintroll places his paws on Snufkin's hips, gentle as always. 

Well, no time like the present, Snufkin thinks, reaching down in between them and positioning Moomin's cock upright, kneeling up and rubbing the head at his entrance teasingly (for both of them) but mainly to lubricate it, to make the whole situation easier. It elicits a quiet inhale from the troll, and Snufkin can feel his claws tapping steadily on his skin, a shiver racing down his back at the thought of them leaving marks on his body that only he will know are there.

Satisfied with the slickness of his member, Snufkin bites his lip as the head slips inside, wincing a little at the stretch. In hindsight he probably should've stretched himself out a little before just hopping onto him, but he's sure he can take it regardless; he's not a quitter.

Although he does stay still for a few moments, appreciating the stretch, the feeling of the head finally where it belongs. If he focuses he can feel all the curves and edges he'd memorised earlier in his mouth, moaning quietly when it pulses and he can  _ feel _ it.

"You're… So tight," Moomin exclaims, voice no louder than a whisper but so loud in Snufkin's ears. "Much tighter than last time."

He's tempted to admonish him for the last comment, but he's not wrong, his hole not as flexible as it is when Snufkin's in heat. "That's… Mmh, cause I'm not in heat…"

An involuntary muscle contraction forces Moomin's cock deeper into him, and Snufkin's joints almost fail at the sudden shock of pleasure burning up through him. Breathing harshly, he tries to recover by sliding down even further, until the rim of his entrance rests against the beginning of Moomintroll's knot; there's no way he'll be able to take that yet, just the girth of his shaft pushing him to the limits of his comfort.

They stay still for what feels like hours, connected in the greatest sense of the word, breathing in each other's excitement. Between them, Snufkin can feel his slick making Moomin's fur sticky and matted, something about the messiness exciting despite the grossness.

He curls his fingers into the fur on Moomin's shoulders as he rocks his hips forward a little, wincing when the stretch burns more, but the pain quickly turns into pleasure and Snufkin feels almost powerless to the desire to continue circling his hips, every movement pressing Moomin's cock against his walls in so many different ways it makes his head spin.

"Oh Moomintroll…" Snufkin sighs, thighs shaking with the effort of staying in one position. Moomin groans, a paw sliding up to Snufkin's chest, thumb rubbing against a nipple and sending sharp spikes of pleasure through him. "Oh god!"

"Shh," Moomin hushes him, continuing to circle his nipple with a smirk. "Don't wake anyone."

Snufkin moans, half with annoyance and half with pleasure, tightening around Moomin's shaft with determination, satisfied when the troll makes a loud noise too. "M-maybe you should… Take your own advice?"

He can't decide if provoking him was a good idea or not, almost collapsing when he bucks his hips up and pushes his cock further up inside of him. The tip of the head rubs against a particularly sensitive area that almost burns white hot at the touch, however fleeting, but considering the lack of pain, Snufkin decides to chase the feeling.

Raising himself up on his knees with the aid of Moomin's shoulders, Snufkin delights in the easy slide of his cock slipping out of his hole, repositioning it again to make the next stage easier before sinking down a lot faster than before. Made easy by the slickness of his natural lubricant, Moomintroll's cock fills him up deliciously, the sound of his sticky thighs against the other's fur strange but loud in the otherwise quiet room.

Moomin's paws slide back into place on his hips, helping Snufkin bounce up and down on his cock steadily, and as experienced as he is, he's thankful for the help, muscles shaking with the effort of not just letting gravity do all the work. His claws dig into his skin like pin-pricks as Snufkin speeds up a little, pressing his face against Moomin's chest with a slight whine. It feels so good to be so full, so close to him, so  _ right _ , like he's exactly where he's meant to be. With his eyes closed everything feels so much more, like the darkness of the tent enhancing his every sense once again. 

A warm gust of air across his neck sends shivers down his spine, Moomintroll's snout pressed into the space between his neck and shoulder as he pushes his hips up to meet every downward slide Snufkin takes. His knot nudges at his opening more insistently, stretching him wider at the rim.

"S-so good, Moomin," he whispers, hearing a hiss as he drags his nails down across Moomin's back, pressing as close as he can to the other, desperate and touch-starved. "So full…"

He doesn't get a response (not that he was expecting one), besides the feeling of something wet sliding up his neck, leaving a trail of rapidly cooling saliva on his heated skin. It feels so ridiculously sensual, a slight rush of slick leaking out of him around Moomin and making everything much too slippery, and Snufkin loses his last thread of composure.

He starts moving quick enough that the bed creaks loudly, the headboard hitting the wall with the force. Snufkin doesn't even think about the fact that anyone might hear, struck dumb by the pleasure, sensations almost as maddening as when he's on his heat. It's never felt this good before outside of his heat, and he's pretty sure it's better than most of his heats to boot.

Moomintroll struggles to keep up with Snufkin's desperate pace, a few badly timed thrusts resulting in his knot forcing itself inside of him suddenly. It hurts something wonderful, on another level of intimacy that he's never experienced before.

Snufkin cries out brokenly, shuddering as he stops bouncing, breathing laboured as he tries to adjust to being forced open so wide. He's more stunned than in pain, although that too, finding he doesn't dislike it one bit. It takes him a moment but he feels embarrassment flood him when he realises how loud he reacted, Moomintroll's  _ parents _ just on the floor below. Snufkin hopes they're heavy sleepers.

"A-are you okay, Sn-Snuff?" Moomintroll sounds both worried and desperate, voice hoarse. They both cling to one another, listening out for anyone else moving around in the house, breathing sighs of relief when there's no noise.

"Y-yes… More th-than." Snufkin reassures him, blushing hard at how wrecked he sounds. He finds he can barely move without the knot pulling at his rim painfully, and so he does the next best thing, grinding down against Moomin carefully, testing the boundaries. If he moves too far back it hurts, but if he presses against the troll's stomach, the tip of his cock pushes against a bundle of nerves high up in his passage that feels like heaven. 

They're both a lot quieter now there's less movement, breathing harsh but gentle, both working toward their releases. Did it feel this good last time? Does it matter? Snufkin wants to think, wants to separate the emotion from the act but he can't, mind blank and heart racing as his orgasm draws ever nearer.

Moomintroll starts whispering quiet ramblings, a mixture of Snufkin's name and praises, arms wrapping around his waist as though they're just hugging, so Snufkin does the same, looping his arms loosely around Moomin's neck.

"A-are you close?" He asks, hip movements speeding up when he begins to feel the pleasure mounting like lava in a volcano.

"Mhmm… You?"

"Yes…" Snufkin's tongue catches on the 's', arching his spine to throw his head back, nodding desperately when Moomintroll grazes his teeth over his neck, a question of whether he can mark him.

The sink of his teeth feels like euphoria, the sharp pain the final straw as Snufkin cums, stilling in Moomintroll's lap as he tightens and pulses around the thick cock inside of him. He's babbling, can hear his voice echo in his head like he's far away, or underwater maybe, unable to make out the words falling from his lips, floating in the warm glow of his orgasm.

Absently, he realises Moomin didn't cum yet, but when he opens his eyes he finds that perhaps that doesn't matter. His blue eyes seem almost black, blown wide and dark with desire and something he can't quite name, watching Snufkin's face with fascination.

His neck aches distantly, and he wonders with a sick want if Moomin broke the skin, just the thought causing another gush of slick to surround the member still buried deep inside of him.

Wordlessly, Snufkin continues to roll his hips in a circle, shaking and way too oversensitive but determined to make the troll cum too, pride filling him when his knot pulses a few times before he can feel Moomintroll's thick cum flood every empty space inside of him. It's hot and kind of gross and it only serves to further Snufkin's own pleasure, both of them basking in the afterglow.

Moomin presses his snout to Snufkin's cheek and nuzzles carefully, and finally the tension from the past few weeks begins to bleed out of his body, making him feel floppy, like a syrup soaked pancake. "... Wow."

They both laugh quietly, trying to maneuver into a more comfortable position without disconnecting, Moomin's knot still buried deep into Snufkin with no chance of coming free any time soon. Neither of them speak for a while, listening to the sounds of the birds outside singing Snufkin's new Spring tune.

Eventually, Moomin's cock slips out of Snufkin wetly, and they both cringe (although the mumrik does find some satisfaction in the way their combined juices slide down his thighs). Moomintroll helps Snufkin to the bathroom where they both clean up, disposing of the evidence of their tryst, still not talking. 

Snufkin takes the bed sheets down to the kitchen, cleaning them whilst Moomin replaces them, and it gives him some time to think.

The tension is definitely gone, that's for sure. His bones feel like jelly still, his mind floating somewhere high in the clouds as though he's been smoking, and he certainly enjoyed it. He touches his cheeks tentatively, biting his lip at the heat there.

He can't help but feel dread about it though, especially when he looks in the window and finds himself staring back, the teeth shaped bruise on his neck obvious and much too high to be hidden by his scarf. And it's fine because they're 'in a relationship', so even if anyone asks he has a great excuse. How badly he wants it to be for reasons other than just because they were… Getting it on, for it to be a symbol of their love for each other, for it to be exactly what everyone is going to think it is.

It'd be so much easier if Moomin didn't care for Snufkin as much as he does. They wouldn't even be in this situation if he didn't love him as much as he does. It's just so much worse because the way Moomin loves Snufkin isn't the same way Snufkin loves Moomin.

His hand lands on the slight swell of his stomach, frowning despite himself. "This is going to be harder than I thought, little one…"

"Who are you talking to?" Moomintroll asks, standing in the kitchen doorway, brows knitted together with worry when Snufkin turns to look at him, not quick enough with changing the despondent look on his face.

Snufkin looks down before shrugging. "It's silly, I know they can't hear me yet, but it's comforting to talk to them…"

"I don't think it's silly, I think it's cute," the troll hums thoughtfully, a finger tracing the bruise on Snufkin's neck, moving away when Snufkin shudders visibly. "I didn't hurt you did I?"

"No more than I wanted you to."

He looks a little confused for a moment, and Snufkin blushes darkly before it seems to dawn on Moomin. "Oh you liked it? I'll remember that for next time." There's a smirk on his face as he turns and walks away, and he’s torn between crying and laughing despite everything.

Why does it feel so much worse to have something over nothing? If they could go back to how they were before his heat hit, and none of this ever happened, somehow Snufkin thinks he’d be much less upset about his unrequited love. Having a taste of what they could be, and having to pretend to not be madly in love with Moomin whilst having to pretend to pretend to be in love with him hurts so much. But then they wouldn’t have their child… And that feels worse.

Snufkin goes back to washing the bedsheets, thoughts swirling around his mind and heart breaking in two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i lied it only took a day and a half to knock out the smut
> 
> chap 6 might take longer


	6. 1st Trimester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein hibernation is over and a party is planned

Snufkin was definitely just over emotional from being tired out by their activities yesterday, he decides, ignoring the despair he feels from waking up alone again.

Today he feels a lot less upset by the lack of reciprocity, and it's a good thing too because Little My stands outside his tent as he leaves, hands on her hips. "Morning sunshine," her sharp teeth shine in the morning light, and Snufkin wonders vaguely if their mother had an affair with a shark. “Mamma and Pappa are awake, just thought you should know before you go in.”

"Why would I need to know?"

"Well, don't want to shock them when you get all loved up with Moomin."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

There’s a disbelieving look on her face but she drops the subject. Snufkin doesn’t understand how she can be so observant, so much so that he feels a twinge of panic; if anyone would expose their secrets it’d be Little My. Best to keep on her good side.

He follows his sister up the path to the front door, thankful that he still isn’t really showing yet, trying to remember not to be obvious about his pregnancy. There’s a quiet clatter from the kitchen, and soft laughter, which makes him smile. Pappa grumbles something as Mamma and Moomin seem unable to calm down, and Little My tuts with a mostly fake exasperation.

Moomin must hear because he leans around the doorway and waves at them both, announcing their arrival to his parents before rushing over. “Good morning, how are you?” It’s kind of obvious he’s asking Snufkin, eyes fixed on him, and he wonders vaguely if he’s worried he spooked him after yesterday (this is all because he avoided him last time isn’t it).

"Good thanks," Snufkin crosses his arms awkwardly, narrowing his eyes when Little My snickers at him. "And you?"

The troll nods, the smile on his face widening. "Mamma wants to speak to you, Snuff."

As if on cue, Mamma enters the living room and greets Little My before asking her to fetch some jam from the basement. She does, with a little grumbling, and then it's just the three of them.

"How are you feeling, dear?" Mamma asks, voice soft and warm, leading Snufkin to the sofa. He understands where Moomin gets his caring nature from.

Snufkin sits, taking his time to think of an honest answer, watching Moomintroll wander back into the kitchen to help Pappa. “Okay I suppose, all things considered,” Mamma nods encouragingly, waiting for Snufkin to elaborate. “I had been having quite bad sickness but that’s mostly gone now.”

“Well that’s good. And emotionally? It’s not taken too much of a toll on your mind has it?”

He inhales harshly and her face changes slightly; not quite pitying but close enough to it that Snufkin begins to feel uncomfortable. “It’s been difficult… There’s so much to panic about, so much to remember and think about... But I’m lucky to have Moomintroll.”

"And he's lucky to have you, dear," the pity disappears, which he's immensely glad for, and she hums softly. "But don’t feel afraid to tell him off if he gets too overbearing. Moominpappa was stifling when I was pregnant, which certainly doesn’t help the panic you’re feeling yourself.”

Snufkin laughs behind his hand. He can easily see the older moomin worrying over every little thing and yet being of no help at all. His moomin, on the other hand, has been a great help, and can’t do much wrong in Snukin’s eyes. 

There's a yelp from the kitchen followed by Pappa's laughter this time and Snufkin rescinds that statement. Little My races up the basement stairs into the kitchen to see what happened, almost falling over as she slides on something, the jar of jam in her arms threatening to fall too. His hand instinctively flies to his abdomen, even though he's nowhere near the carnage.

"Even the slightest noise makes you nervous," Mamma coaxes softly, a knowing look in her eyes as she looks at his hands on his stomach. "Yes?"

He nods for lack of words, moving them away when Pappa walks over from the kitchen. "Mamma I'm afraid we need your medical expertise."

She sighs fondly, standing up and following her husband into the kitchen, promising to talk to Snufkin another time. Having said hello anyway, Snufkin decides he's been polite enough. Shutting the door carefully behind him, he tries not to feel guilty for leaving before breakfast, but he'd gotten used to it just being him and Moomintroll, and the extra company is just a little too much too soon.

Settling down on the bridge with his fishing rod, he breathes in the smell of wet grass and melting snow, ignoring the way his inhale shakes. He just has to get used to it again.

He casts his line and watches it bob in the water, eyes unfocusing until the sun glimmering in the water looks like white circles dancing in his vision. They're going to be fine.

Yes, Moominhouse is raucous and full of hazards, and yes, the valley is full of people who don't understand the mumrik way, and no, maybe he isn't super comfortable with everyone knowing they're having a baby… But Snufkin knows deep down that most of these worries of his are just that. There's no real danger in Moominhouse, the people of the valley are mostly friendly and he knows that only a few are the judging type.

It could be a bit quieter though.

* * *

 

After he's caught a few fish, Snufkin decides he's calmed down enough to face socialising again, even if he is too late for breakfast. Most of the rest of the day is spent listening to Pappa talk about the dreams he had during hibernation, eating fried fish and bread and trying not to sit too closely to Moomintroll.

Snufkin would call the day a success if he was asked.

At the dinner table, Mamma explains her plans for the Spring party, giving everyone a job to do; Pappa is to write invitations and help set up the garden with Moomintroll’s help, Little My’s job is to hand out the invitations and Snufkin will help Mamma with the cooking. They all accept their jobs (although Little My does ask why Snufkin gets the easiest job, which earns a long-winded roundabout reply from Moomin that doesn’t really make sense).

“I think we could be prepared enough for it to be this weekend,” Mamma continues, snipping the argument forming between Moomintroll and Little My in the bud before it can escalate. “But it does mean we’ll be busy.”

“Nothing like a good busy week to get the blood flowing after hibernation my dear!” Pappa exclaims, and they continue their dinner in relative silence.

Once everyone’s finished and the dishes have been washed, Moomin takes Snufkin up to his room and they try to plan a way to tell everyone at the party, deciding in the end to just do it when it feels natural otherwise people will be able to tell it’s been scripted.

“Perhaps we don’t need to announce it,” Snufkin begins, knowing full well what the response is going to be. “Maybe we just tell the people that matter…?”

If he’s being honest, Snufkin doesn’t want everyone to know anyway. He’s sure the Fillyjonk will have plenty to say about him being a parent, and in general he isn’t really comfortable with people who aren’t close to them knowing.

Moomintroll takes a moment to think, fingers fiddling with the bandage on his paw where he cut it earlier. “... We could wait until it’s just our family and friends at the end of the party? Would that be better?”

Snufkin nods, relaxing a little. “Yeah, it would be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a quick filler chapter for now
> 
> party chapter next!


	7. 2nd Trimester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the Spring party happens

Three days of intense party preparations later and Snufkin is more tired than he’d like to admit. The garden looks beautiful, with hay bales from last year dotted around a central space for dancing. Everything is decorated with flowers from Mamma’s garden and strings of fairy lights in all different colours. There’s grass woven into wreaths with daffodils and daisies, placed on the trees and the walls of Moominhouse, and a large table covered in food and punch. A radio sits on the dining table on the porch, playing loud music over the valley.

With only a few minutes left before the party begins officially and guests start arriving, Little My hands out some flower crowns she’d made once she’d delivered all the invitations. The one she gives Snufkin has daisies and grape hyacinths, the white and purple complementing each other nicely. He thanks her with a smile as he replaces his hat with the crown, ignoring the way his heart thumps a little harder when he looks over at Moomintroll, his own flower crown full of forget-me-nots and similar daisies, perched precariously over his ears. They don’t match perfectly but if one were to squint…

Little My raises an eyebrow at him and he schools his expression back to something neutral, walking back into the house quickly to avoid any further suspicion. He stops by the kitchen, asking Mamma if there’s anything else he can do to help.

“Could you make sure Moomintroll put the toys and colouring books out for the children?” She asks, bustling around the kitchen trying to find the cutlery they keep for parties, her apron folded next to the sink. Her pink flower crown is nestled much more successfully over her ears than Moomin’s was over his.

“Okay,” He replies, standing on the veranda and beckoning Moomin over. “Mamma wants to know if you put out the toys and colouring books for the children.”

The troll nods, pointing vaguely in the direction of a small covered area, cushions placed in a circle and toys piled in the centre. The movement jostles his crown, and Snufkin reaches up to fix it, smoothing the fur down on his ears and making sure it doesn’t look crooked.

“There, that looks better.” He smiles, forgetting for a moment that it isn’t just them in the garden.

Little My coughs pointedly from the fence, a mischievous look on her face. “That’s what I was talking about the other day. You too are so soft, it’s sickening.”

“It’s none of your business, My,” Moomintroll frowns. “Don’t you have something better to do?”

She shrugs, beckoning the moomin over and whispering something to him that makes him blush, shock written on his face. Her laughter follows her back over to the garden where she steals a vol au vent before disappearing into the woods.

“What did she say to you?” Snufkin asks, crossing his arms, worried about what could possibly have caused that kind of reaction.

But Moomintroll just shakes his head and takes a deep breath, a slight darkness to his eyes. “Ready to pretend to be a couple?”

His mood drops a little at the reminder, his words like a blade to his currently sensitive emotions. Snufkin can’t help but feel a little pathetic. “Just be natural. If it looks like we’re trying too hard they’ll get suspicious.”

Moomin nods, looking away.

* * *

 

It gets to a point an hour in where Snufkin feels the need to run away creeping up his spine until the nervous energy has him desperate to leave. Instead, he joins some of his younger siblings in the cushion circle, helping them to stack blocks and colour things in, just to spend some of that energy. He can feel Moomin’s eyes on him every now and then but his mother had been so grateful to him for taking them off her hands that he doesn’t mind breaking their plan to be ‘slightly couple-y’ a little.

The sun had begun setting a little earlier than they’d planned, and so some guests were still arriving despite the darkness creeping upon them. The Mymble and her gaggle of little ones have only been in the garden for about half an hour. She’d said they got lost in the woods until a Hemulen Park Keeper had pointed them in the right direction (Snufkin didn’t ask but he hopes the children trashed his park). Sniff’s parents had turned up not long after, which had been unexpected but it was nice for their parents to all have a small reunion. Muddler had offhandedly mentioned that Joxter had gotten his invitation, to which Moominpappa seemed to perk up a little, but didn’t know if he was coming.

Snufkin didn’t know if he wanted him to or not.

About two years back they’d wandered across each other’s paths and although it was nice to see his father, it had been awkward. Joxter, despite having what Snufkin is sure is a great personality, isn’t the best father, probably because he hasn’t had much practice. Although Snufkin probably could’ve tried harder too. If he turns up, it would be nice to try to get to know the Joxter better, and maybe catch up on all the years they’ve missed, but if he doesn’t Snufkin isn’t going to be upset about it. After all, he’s managed most of his life without much parental help, and he's got plenty of people he considers close in that way anyway.

He gets the feeling that Pappa might be more upset if Joxter doesn’t show up though. His invitation had been the only one thicker than the others, Little My had said. Snufkin has a feeling he knows why, but Moomin had been oblivious enough about it that he wasn’t going to say anything.

Besides, he has his own romantic woes to worry about more. Snorkmaiden was one of the first to arrive, along with Sniff and Too-Ticky, and he’s happy to see her and Moomin talking and laughing like friends do, with very little awkwardness. It doesn’t cause a slight pang of jealousy to twist its way around his stomach and squeeze until he feels nauseous, and Snufkin considers that a win.

What it does do is force him to accept that she is going to be present when they declare their news. He groans, ignoring the frowns the sound earns him from the children, holding his head in his hands. Maybe he could just leave. He can deal with Moomintroll’s questions and worries tomorrow, and maybe just leave Moominvalley until after he's had the baby.

"Ugh…"

"Hey Snufkin," a soft, feminine voice greets from behind him, and his plan flies out of the window. "Do you have a minute?"

Snufkin turns and smiles awkwardly at Snorkmaiden, standing up after nodding to follow her over to an empty haybale.

Swapping pleasantries feels about as natural as a fish in a tree, talk of their Winters clearly just a bit of small talk to ease them into a heavier conversation Snorkmaiden seems to be steering them towards.

They sit quietly for a moment before Snorkmaiden sighs. "I know why Moomintroll broke up with me."

Dread fills his chest like ice, but he tries to keep an unaffected expression on his face when he meets her eyes. "Oh?"

She laughs sadly, but warmly. "I've known you both for years, I can tell these things you know. Something happened that day you went to the mountains last Autumn… Whatever it was, just know I don't blame you for it."

Snufkin thinks she should. "... Snorkmaiden…"

"Seriously Snufkin, whether it's a matter of the heart or something else, whatever it is or… Was, I would rather be a friend than a jilted ex lover, so I’m with you both no matter what," she pauses when Moomin waves at them both, taking the moment to collect her thoughts. "Just promise me one thing."

He knows what it's going to be, can hear the words before she says them. It won't be hard for him to answer, even though it should be. It scares him, even though it feels natural.

"Look after him? He's strong, and brave, and kind but he's sensitive too, and it's not hard to break his heart."

Snufkin smiles, warmth on his cheeks, hoping his panic isn't visible. "His heart is safe with me."

Oh how he despises the ease with which he can say that, when Moomin's heart isn't even his to protect.

"Good," she reaches out a paw, and Snufkin stares at it for a moment, hovering in the space between them before he shakes it slightly. Her smile is wide and honest and he wonders if that'll change when she realises  _ exactly  _ what happened that night. "Have you tried the punch? It's amazing."

He shakes his head. "I… I'm not drinking at the moment."

"Oh. Any reason?"

"Hey, Snorkmaiden!" Little My shouts from across the dance area, racing towards them before bowing low. "Dance with me?"

When Snorkmaiden agrees with a laugh, the mymble straightens up and winks at Snufkin before following the snork to the centre of the dancing couples. 

The way she winked keeps replaying in Snufkin's mind long after they left. His sister really is much too observant for his own good, but he’s glad she saved him from the awkward situation.

Maybe it won't be so bad to tell them, he thinks, trying to convince himself desperately.

* * *

 

It definitely will be really bad to tell them, Snufkin decides once the crowd begins to thin out.

When it's just the moomins, Sniff and his parents, Snorkmaiden and the countless mymbles, they move the hay bales into a tighter circle, leaving the children on the cushions so they can have 'adult conversations'. So far that's consisted of Little My embarrassing Snorkmaiden enough to make her storm off (Moomin had to talk her out of leaving), Sniff trying to impress his parents with tales of their adventures and subsequently failing when Snufkin offhandedly mentions how Sniff ran away at the first sign of danger each time, and a few jokes between the parents (mainly between Mymble and Pappa) that make Snufkin blush.

Perhaps the worst part of it all is how quiet Moomintroll is. No one's mentioned it, but every now and then they'll look at them both with a question in their eyes that he doesn't want to answer yet. The troll's silence is only furthering their suspicion.

"Having fun without me?"

"Oh Jox dear, you came!" His mother exclaims, standing to make room for the mumrik on her haybale next to Snufkin’s.

He tilts his hat graciously, a smirk on his face as he leans up to kiss her cheek before sitting.

The conversations continue, now with Joxter sliding his own input into them as easily as if he'd always been there. It doesn't feel as awkward to be sat next to him as he'd thought it would, and they even share a few jokes. Snufkin can tell Joxter's putting in a lot of effort, and for some reason that makes him feel quite emotional.

There's a lull in the conversation, and Mamma coughs pointedly, and Snufkin's heart rate increases so much he begins to worry it'll hurt the baby. Which only makes it worse.

Seeming to sense his panic, Moomintroll smiles at him warmly before turning to face everyone. “Snufkin and I have an announcement.”

It sounds so formal, so rehearsed, Snufkin can’t help but cringe. First, he’s going to tell them they’re together, then once that shock is over he’ll tell them that Snufkin is pregnant, and then when  _ that _ shock is over, Snufkin’s going to hide away in Moomintroll’s bedroom for a week, crying into his pillow.

“You’re in love?” Little My exclaims with a fake gasp, sarcasm bleeding out of every word. “Please, anyone within a mile radius can tell.”

There’s a few light-hearted chuckles from the other guests, mainly from their parents, quiet but in the way that suggests that yes, they knew.

"Wait what?" Sniff asks, but everyone ignores him.

Pappa offhandedly asks about marriage, to which Snufkin's heart stops beating, but Mamma shakes her head at him and he apologises. "Better to not rush them, dear." He can hear her whisper.

Moomin shrugs as if to acquiesce, but Snufkin’s own panic is reflected in his eyes when they look at each other. How… Would they have guessed that? They haven’t been pretending to be in a relationship long enough that Snufkin’s parents would know, even though  _ both  _ Mymble and Joxter are nodding and laughing too, and Moomin and Snorkmaiden only broke up last year. Has he been that obvious about his love for Moomintroll?

There’s a question on the troll’s face when the excitement dies down, so Snufkin nods hesitantly, encouraging him to continue. He’s glad Moomin offered to speak; he’s sure that if he tried he’d mess up somehow.

“Well actually that’s not all,” he begins, a glare directed at Little My, who sticks her tongue out at him. “Snufkin is pregnant.”

It’s quiet enough that they can hear the quiet giggles and clatter of toys from the children. Snufkin decides that he definitely is going to hide away in Moomintroll’s room forever. Forget travelling in Winter, he doesn’t want to risk talking to anyone.

Mamma smiles brightly at them when he risks looking around, almost like she can see Snufkin’s internal self-destruction. And then all hell breaks loose.  


There’s a chorus of confused questions aimed at them both, a lot of excitement (mainly from his mother), and even some disbelief, but when neither of them laugh as well, it seems to set in that they aren’t joking.

“Wait, that’s what you’ve been hiding?” Little My says loudly, talking over Snorkmaiden’s quiet ‘congratulations’.

Snufkin nods, still not trusting his voice.

“We’d prefer it if you didn’t tell anyone else yet.” Moomintroll says in a moment of quiet, and everyone nods.

“Oh dear, what lovely news!” Mymble says, leaning over Joxter to take Snufkin’s hands. “I’m so proud of you.”

Snufkin bites his lip, resisting the urge to cry, finding it harder to not just burst into tears when Joxter puts a hand on his shoulder with a huge grin on his face.

Wow he's a mess.

All in all their announcement went well, once the shock has cleared up there's hugs and excited chatter, promises of help in the coming months and even name suggestions (they don't have to think about that yet, right? What even are the naming rituals they’ll decide on?). Eventually though, the news gets old and the conversation turns to Moominpappa, who begins telling a story about a night on the Oshun Oxtra. It's pretty clear he's had a bit too much of the punch when he trails off mid-sentence, a far away look in his eyes, before standing and finishing the story quickly. He makes an excuse to leave, something about being tired, and wanders back into Moominhouse.

Joxter sighs quietly and stands when Moominmamma gives him a look, following the moomin into the house.

"What do you think that was about?" Moomintroll asks him conspiratorially, leaning in close.

Snufkin shrugs. "It's probably best we leave that to them, and not think about it too much."

There's a soft hum from the troll as they watch the mumrik close the door behind him, the light in Moominpappa’s study turning on. Snufkin hopes they sort out whatever it is they need to.

Muddler and Fuzzy explain that they have to leave not long after, apologetic but assuring everyone that they’ll be staying in the valley for a little while, promising to come for dinner at some point. Mymble and her children leave at the same time, hugging Snufkin tightly (which he doesn’t complain about, she gives good hugs) and asking Mamma to tell Joxter where she’s living.

“We’ll tidy everything up in the morning,” Mamma decides, standing as well and leaving the group of friends to continue chatting. “Goodnight everyone.”

Once she’s gone, Little My turns a grin full of teeth onto Snufkin. “So… I’m assuming it was a good night in the mountains?”

He feels a dark blush flood his cheeks, glaring at her. It’s bad enough knowing that everyone knows they’ve been intimate, but to have their business just casually joked about feels ten times worse.

“Little My!” Snorkmaiden saves his modesty, a scandalised look on her face. “Don’t be so crass!”

“What? We were all thinking it," she shrugs, hopping onto the snork's shoulder. "They definitely fucked that day."

"I don't get it?" Sniff whines as Snufkin glares daggers at his sister.

Moomintroll laughs at Sniff, not quite relaxedly but it’s not awkward, and Snufkin calms down despite the fact that he’s still way too embarrassed for his own comfort. He stays quiet for most of the night, listening to the others tease Sniff about his lack of knowledge when he expresses his confusion over how Snufkin is pregnant. It makes him cringe but it is kind of funny.

"Seriously guys, isn't Snufkin a boy?"

"Sniff you ignorant dumbass, he's half mymble." Little My admonishes, hissing at Snorkmaiden when she holds her back by her dress to stop her from lunging at Sniff. 

It all went so much better than he’d thought it would. Snorkmaiden isn’t angry and doesn’t hate him, Little My finds it more funny than anything else, Sniff is an idiot, and their parents are happy for them, proud even. 

It feels a little disingenuous lying to them about the nature of his and Moomintroll’s relationship; he knows his mother would understand the situation if he told her how it really was. And maybe everyone else would too. Really there is not much of a reason for them to be pretending to be together, but it is easier, and that’s enough of a reason, surely. Best not to dwell on it.

The night draws on, the moon bright over their heads and the stars twinkling like the fairy lights strung up on the trees. It’s comfortable, if a little bit cold.

So if he sits a little too close, with his head a little too comfortable on Moomintrolls’s shoulder, and his hand playfully twirling the fur on his wrist then who's going to judge?

They're 'together', and it’s cold, so it’s normal for them to be so close. And Moomintroll, poor poor (or is he lucky?) Moomintroll, will think he's just acting, to keep up pretences. 

Oh how badly Snufkin wishes to kneel before him and declare his eternal love, veins surging, nerves strengthened by the leftover atmosphere of the party, eyes alight with love and passion and everything in between. Instead he decides to shuffle a little closer, sighing contentedly when Moomin's arm loops around his waist easily. This will have to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> djklcdnjkvdjkn
> 
> moomin: we have an announcement-
> 
> everyone at the party: oh you're together we been knew
> 
> moomin: snufkin is pregnant!!!
> 
> everyone else, me included: .........wtff
> 
> in other words, the chapter where i lose all of my last strings of sanity just trying to keep it consistent, making sense and not boring. i fail on all levels
> 
> (psst, if ya wanna know what happened with pappa and jox, there's a fic for that [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19345228))
> 
> (also now there's a snorkmyden follow up, [read that here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20026195))


	8. 2nd Trimester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Snufkin slowly begins to understand he's in for a much rockier ride than first thought

Snufkin hasn't seen Mymble's house in Moominvalley before. When he was a child still living at home, they lived further inland (his mother moved from the island where she and Joxter met not long after he was born), in a four bedroomed house that had been left abandoned after a fire. It never felt like home, especially not after Snufkin took to sleeping outside in a tent just to escape his numerous siblings.

Her house here is bigger. Still not enough bedrooms, but Snufkin can sit at the dining table in the kitchen with a cup of hot chocolate and a slice of cake and not have to worry about someone running into his chair.

“How has your pregnancy been?” Mymble asks, hanging her coat up on the rack by the kitchen door. She’d come to Moominhouse to ask him to join her for a hot drink that morning, and ended up staying there for lunch when it started to rain.

Snufkin takes a careful sip of the drink, letting the sweetness take off the edge of panic beginning to creep up his spine. It’s been a week since the Spring party, and yet it still feels like he needs to keep his condition a secret. Mamma had said it won’t take long for him to get used to people asking questions about it, but he’s not sure how much he believes the moomin. “A bit of an emotional rollercoaster,” understatement of the century. “I had bad morning sickness but I’ve been alright for a few days.”

His mother nods, sitting down with her own mug across from him. “My first was pretty rough too, believe it or not,” she begins, a far-off look in her eyes. “I had morning sickness the whole nine months! It gets easier the more you do it.”

Frowning, he pushes his cake to the side a little. She doesn’t know this time was an accident. There won’t be another time for him. “I’m sure it does.”

“You know, of all my children, I never thought you would be the first to get pregnant," she muses, her words bringing a flush to his cheeks. "Although I suppose I wouldn't be able to tell you which one of you I thought would be first. There's just so many of you."

They laugh, Snufkin awkwardly, the sounds of crashing upstairs filling the silence. Snufkin, being one of her oldest children, only has a few older siblings, only two of which live in Moominvalley; Little My and Mymble Jr. He shudders at the thought of Little My being a mother, and though he knows Mymble Jr would be a great mum, she's said before that helping their mother look after their siblings was more than enough for her.

Mymble has a small smile on her face when Snufkin dares to look up from his mug, the little bit of pride in her eyes clenching around his heart a little. "It's scary, isn't it? You don't know what to expect, how to deal with it all, who to talk to," there's no pity when she speaks, only understanding. "To be honest, I had no idea what to expect with you. Mumriks can be more difficult to give birth to. I don't even know about moomins!"

Terror grips Snufkin all of a sudden. "What do you mean?"

"Well, mymbles are so tiny when first born, and so round, they tend to just… Fall out, so to speak, but you were all arms and legs, even if you were still small. You were the most difficult birth I had, Snufkin dear." Her voice is conversational, like she hasn't just dropped a huge bombshell that Snufkin wasn't expecting.

The birth he was expecting was already going to be difficult enough for him to come to terms with; now it might be even worse? "... Do I need to talk to father about it? Does he know more?" As if his carefree father would know anything of use to him.

"Oh no I'm sure it'll be fine dear. You were difficult but not impossible. You'll manage."

It's not at all reassuring, but he takes a shaky sip of hot chocolate just to settle the rolling of his stomach. Maybe he could blame it on morning sickness if he had to.

The rain begins to come down harder outside, the sound against the window pane both soothing and annoying. "... Mother, how long does labour take?"

Mymble sighs quietly, tapping her mug gently as she thinks. "Considering this is your first, and we don't know how big your litter will be, I'd say anything from a good few hours to a day, maybe a day and a half."

Snufkin thinks he might faint. He's not prepared at all. A day and a half? How big his litter will be? Laughter bubbles up from his chest in absolute horror. " _ Oh no… _ "

They sit in silence for quite a while after that, Snufkin unable to do anything but silently panic. What if he has more than one baby? How on earth are they going to manage more than one child? There's  _ definitely _ not enough room in Moominhouse for multiple babies, of that he's certain, and he doesn't even want to begin thinking about being in labour for  _ over a day _ .

Once they've finished their drinks, Mymble places their dishes in the sink before leaving the kitchen, asking Snufkin to stay put.

He thinks of how both he and Moomin don't have twins or any other same-litter-siblings, trying to reassure himself that it's unlikely they'll be having more than one baby. It's only a small comfort.

"I found this the other day as I was moving some furniture around, and gave it a quick wash and mend for you." Mymble announces, a small, soft package in her hands that she holds out to Snufkin. It has his and Moomintroll's names on a label next to a warning to not open it until the baby is born.

"What is it mother?"

She smiles and shakes her head, parting his hands as he takes the present. "You'll find out eventually."

He smoothes a hand over the brown packaging, the tape on the back barely keeping the present wrapped. "Thank you."

When he returns to Moominhouse, Mamma is waiting for him with a fluffy white towel and a warm cup of tea. Snufkin accepts the towel with a smile, drying off his hair and putting his hat down to dry too before sitting on the sofa with his cup of tea.

Mamma sits down with him, knitting something (she refuses to tell Snufkin what it is, but the soft, pastel yellow yarn seems to be making a shape similar to very tiny socks) and chatting about small things.

"Mamma, can I ask you something?" Snufkin brings his knees up to his chest, resting his cup on top of them.

The moomin nods, setting her knitting down to the side after repeating a number a few times. "Of course you can, Snufkin."

"... What was your pregnancy like? And giving birth?"

She's quiet for a moment, and he's glad she's taking her time because it means she's more likely to be honest. "The pregnancy went well, and I was incredibly lucky that I was only in labour for about five hours," Mamma pats his knee gently when he inhales suddenly. "Labour is definitely quicker for moomins than mymbles, so hopefully yours won't last as long as whatever Mymble has told you."

Snufkin drinks his tea in an attempt to distract himself. Maybe he was a little too uninformed; he’d thought it wouldn’t take too long, not hours at least.

They continue to talk about things that will happen sooner than the birth, about how he’ll need new clothes and things they can do to get Moominhouse baby-ready. Being better prepared for the future never really mattered to Snufkin before; whatever happens, happens. But it’s reassuring now, to have a loose plan of the next few months.

The present sits comfortably on the bookshelf, but Snufkin wants to open it now. Mamma follows his line of sight and smiles. “I can put it away so it won’t tempt you?”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “I’m just curious, is all.” They have months to wait, there’s no point panicking over everything now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another shorter chapter!
> 
> prepare for some...angst and crying next chapter 👀


	9. 2nd Trimester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Snufkin struggles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not really necessary but warning for snufkin's internal struggles with a lot.
> 
> updated tags 3.7.19

“Who confessed first?” Little My asks at the breakfast table, legs swinging on the chair as she bites into her pancakes (made by Mamma today, not Moomintroll).

Snufkin's hand hovers in midair, pancake slipping off his fork, not expecting that to be the first thing she says to him that morning. "Um…"

"I did," Moomin interjects, tone light and easy. "Why do you ask?"

They hadn’t figured this out yet, but the speed at which Moomin just decides to take the responsibility of working it out on the spot is both extremely thoughtful and annoying. Obviously Snufkin would hate having to be the one to improvise here (yes, he’s good at omitting things but creating lies? Not so good), but he’s not entirely sure he trusts Moomintroll to make it believable. After all, it has to both make sense, and not cause any more questions, and without planning, Snufkin knows they have no chance of securing their story.

Little My narrows her eyes a little, but shrugs. “Just interested," she chews her breakfast thoughtfully, and Snufkin knows today is going to be terrible. "How did you do it?"

"That's not really any of your concern." Snufkin tries to say with as little emotion as possible, proud of himself when his voice doesn't shake. Maybe he can drag the question back into the proverbial chest, to be brought back up at a later date, when they’re prepared.  


There's a paw on his knee under the table, the gentle comfort enough to calm him down a little, even if he’d rather it wouldn’t. Moomintroll meets his eyes with a smile, and he wonders what lies he'll concoct; after all, he's just as good at storytelling as Moominpappa now, and maybe his improvisational skills could still use some work but he’s getting there (Snufkin does  _ not  _ think of Moomintroll telling bedtime stories to their child, the three of them curled up in bed and how softly the image makes his heart ache. He really doesn’t).

Little My raises an eyebrow, putting down her fork and pointing at them both with an accusatory frown. "If you can't tell me, then it's not true."

Still calm, still completely composed, Moomin hums thoughtfully. "Well, it's not exactly dining table talk, but if you insist…"

"I do."

There’s quiet for a moment, not too long for it to be suspicious but long enough for Moomin to think about what kind of confession makes sense for them.

"We were heading up the Lonely Mountain, and the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon," there's a soft, wistful look in his eyes as he 'casts his mind back', and it's incredibly convincing, so much so that Snufkin has to take a deep breath just to remind himself it isn’t real. "Snufkin looked so devastatingly gorgeous in the evening sunlight that I just couldn't help myself. I had to tell him how I feel."

Snufkin would find it funny how captivated everyone at the table is, food forgotten and breath bated, if he himself wasn't similarly taken by Moomin's storytelling, hanging onto his every word like hearing his story is just as important as breathing.

"Thinking back, I wish I'd said it slower, and maybe with more words, but I was struck dumb by love… Naturally all I could do was stare until he noticed and asked what was wrong, and it was then that I said 'I love you'," their eyes meet, and Snufkin can see the apology clear as day in his eyes. Pain blooms in his heart, knowing that he’ll never hear those words in any other context. "Nothing more and nothing less."

It’s a good lie. Just on the right side of truthful to be convincing, but tailored to who they both are enough that it doesn’t even feel like a lie anymore.

Neither of them say much after that, and Snufkin can tell today is going to be bad.

* * *

 

"What do you love about Moomintroll?" Little My asks some time later, both of them watching Mamma knit the thing she was knitting the other day when Snufkin came home from the Mymble's house.

The question makes his hair stand on end, but he knows he has to keep up the façade. Even if it's true when it should be a lie. "... He's soft, and kind, and gentle. And understanding. He doesn't force me to be anything other than myself when I’m around him.” It’s not nearly as eloquent as Moomin’s answer from this morning, and he cringes latently at how empty his voice sounded.  


Her face stays unreadable, and there’s a moment of silence as she digests his words. “Okay. Anything else?”

Isn’t that enough? What more could she want? Snufkin has a billion things he could say about why he loves Moomintroll; from how soft his fur is, to how breathtaking he looks in the light of a sunset, to how much he feels like home, to the way he smells like something sweet and grassy. The way his eyes glint like precious sapphires in the light of the high noon sun. How cute it is when his ears wiggle slightly when he's excited. The way his tail curls over Snufkin's legs when they sit in the grass fields and just talk. The little bit of height he has over Snufkin that means he has to look up at him just the tiniest bit. The endless patience he has for him. How well they fit together when they’re intimate. How well they fit together when they’re just touching, holding hands, hugging, kissing.

But it’s all just so… Blindingly true that he can’t voice it. He can’t. The risk of Moomin finding out that it’s not pretend for him is so terrifying, the words stick in his throat. The terror of everyone else realising he’s a liar, and a creep, and a cheat only further cements his panic, so much so that his vision becomes blurry with a mixture of unshed tears and adrenaline.

Maybe if he starts crying now, Little My will shut up.

“I just don’t understand why it took you both so long,” she continues when it’s clear Snufkin has lost the ability to say anything. “When you’re both so obviously infatuated with each other. Years, Snufkin, we’ve all had to watch you pine after him, it’s disgustingly endearing, and then all of a sudden you’re together out of the blue?”

Snufkin can hear the doubt in her voice, can see the cogs turning in her head as she tries to piece together all of the puzzle pieces of the past few months. And the worst part is, he can’t stop that process because she'll figure it out.

And yes, years of pining sounds just about right. Snufkin had found it incredibly useful that Moomintroll is perhaps the most oblivious person he’s ever met when his heart started aching around him, when the touches started lingering for a little too long, when his name started sounding like a love song on his lips, because the moomin never realised. But then the relief faded with time into something Snufkin is reluctant to admit feels like disappointment, like his love isn’t good enough.

He knows he should take it as a blessing. It just hurts to pine so endlessly for someone who sees everything you are apart from them.

“These things happen in strange ways, My. Maybe one day you’ll understand.” Snufkin feels like a hypocrite; he doesn’t understand either. Her eyes narrow, judging him, but he’s not going to let his sister intimidate him.

“Whatever you say, little bro,” it seems like she’s about to drop the subject, surrendering the topic for now with a sigh and a glare. “Either way I’m glad that idiot finally confessed. It was so painful to watch.”

The tears sting a little in his eyes but he’s not going to let them fall. He’s stronger than that, Snufkin knows, and it’s probably just hormones making him overemotional.

* * *

 

Joxter comes over for dinner that night, unannounced and out of the blue (as always). The dining table easily accommodates another, and he sits between Snufkin and Moominpappa like he belongs at the table. Snufkin had thought it strange how quickly any newcomers to the valley fitted in here when he first met them all so many years ago. To be honest, he still does slightly. It’s  _ so _ odd to see his father sat at his boyfriend’s (not-boyfriend’s) family’s table as both an old friend, and father to their son’s boyfriend (not-boyfriend), like he’s always been there, when in truth, he’s never been there.

Today’s just a bad day for things that Snufkin isn’t decided on. Maybe rightfully, he’s still not entirely comfortable with Joxter yet, and there’s a lot that he has to prove before Snufkin truly considers their relationship familial, but it hurts to be so close to his father and yet also be so far from him.

At least he knows what he  _ doesn’t  _ want for his child. He knows what not to do in terms of being there for the baby, and he’s glad for that, in a small way.

Snufkin knows Joxter is his own person, with his own hang-ups and personal issues, and fatherhood maybe wasn’t suited to him. He can’t really blame him at all, and he doesn’t want to, and in all honesty Snufkin feels quite selfish to be so upset by something that he would probably have done had he not been on the other side of the situation himself.

His mind is like a maelstrom of bad emotions, and the tears from earlier are still there, threatening to fall if he blinks too hard.

Moomintroll, for all his obliviousness, seems to sense Snufkin’s upset, offering him a gentle smile. He’d like to say it helps, but it doesn’t, somehow just reminding him of how fake everything they are is.

The food on his plate mocks him by upsetting his stomach, and suddenly the months of sickness seem to catch back up to him. It’s probably just because his emotions have been so down today but he feels so sick.

Snufkin is cursed.

“I’ll be right back.” He announces as he stands and rushes up the stairs without looking back, the bathroom door shutting hurriedly as he leans over the toilet and brings up the slice of bread he’d managed to eat before the wave of nausea struck him. Each heave hurts his ribs, eyes burning and throat stinging from the acid, but at least now he can cry and he has a good excuse for doing so.

There’s a careful knocking on the door, and Snufkin is tempted to tell whoever it is to go away, but he can’t speak with his head practically in the toilet, and the door opens despite his silent willing of it to stay closed.

A slightly smaller hand than Moomin’s begins rubbing slow and precise circles into his back, and Snufkin flinches instinctively. Had he become so used to Moomintroll’s touch that anyone else felt wrong? The tears fall faster.

“Is there something I can do to help, Snufkin?” His father asks, and it’s awkward but he’s trying, and Snufkin just sniffs as he points in the general direction of the stack of flannels next to the sink. Moomin had made sure to keep a pile in easy reach so that when this happened, he wouldn’t have to rush around to find one. “Damp on the forehead, right?”

The hand stops as Joxter stands and soaks the flannel, wringing it out and folding it before holding it against Snufkin’s forehead with one hand, the other rubbing his back again, efficient and exactly the way that he finds most comforting. He wants to ask how he knows, but another wave of sickness hits and he’s heaving again.

It feels like hours before the retching stops, mouth tasting sour and body aching. It’s the worst he’s had for a few weeks, and it worries him.

Joxter’s still trying to soothe him, although Snufkin can tell his hand is beginning to cramp from smoothing his back for too long. He helps him to stand, using the damp flannel to clean Snufkin’s face as he clings to his father’s sleeves, tears still falling.

Once he’s satisfied with Snufkin’s cleanliness, Joxter drops the flannel in the sink and considers something for a moment before slowly pulling him close into a hug. Snufkin knows he can pull back if he wants to, can tell that’s why Joxter is doing it slowly, but whether it’s the hormones or the years of not having a father, Snufkin doesn’t want to.

The hug is awkward, just like everything else, but it’s a start, and Snufkin is so happy that his pappa is trying that it only makes him feel worse, and he doesn’t know why.

Joxter pulls away first, letting Snufkin go gently, before he leaves the bathroom with a mutter of ‘see you downstairs’. The door clicks shut and Snufkin falls to his knees, trying to hold back the sobs threatening to bubble their way out of his chest, hands sliding over his stomach in a weak attempt to soothe himself. He won’t cry over this. He doesn’t need to.

* * *

 

Once his face isn’t all red and blotchy, and the taste of bile has been scrubbed out of his mouth to be replaced by peppermint, Snufkin takes a deep breath and returns to the dinner table. His plate is no longer in front of his chair, and he smiles in thanks to Mamma when she explains that it’s in the fridge if he’d like it later.

He doesn’t feel quite so nauseous watching everyone else eat their dessert, but he keeps quiet, letting everyone else’s voices drown out the still slowly rising meltdown building in his body. Snufkin knows well enough that bottling up his feelings like this is not good at all, that maybe he should’ve just let himself cry it out on Joxter’s shoulder and blamed it all on the baby, but he couldn’t. Maybe he can escape to his tent a little earlier than usual and hope no one leaves the house long enough for him to have his breakdown and pretend everything’s okay again in the morning.

Eventually, everyone heads off; Joxter leaves without saying goodbye, Little My announces her plans for a sleepover at Snorkmaiden’s, and Mamma and Pappa head to bed not long after she’s left. Moomin and Snufkin are left alone downstairs, and now Snufkin can’t just escape to his tent because Moomintroll will either want to come too, or will ask questions, or even worse, he won’t, and he’ll just go to bed without even noticing Snufkin’s impending breakdown.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Moomintroll asks, tidying up the leftover dishes on the dining table as he waits for Snufkin to answer, but there’s an undertone of worry permeating his every movement. He’s not a good enough actor for his anguish to not be noticed, it seems.

Snufkin waits for Moomin to stop tidying before answering, giving him time to pretend to think of an answer. “I’m fine, it’s just hormones.”

The other frowns a little, and kneels in front of the chair Snufkin is perched on, face turned resolutely away from him. “You’re not, and it isn’t. I’m your best friend, I can tell these things, you know,” his words hit a little too close to home, forcing him to take a very shaky breath just to stop himself from bursting into tears immediately. It only seems to prove his point though. “If you tell me, I can help, and I really want to.”

He can help? Snufkin wants to laugh, but he just feels hollow. The only way he can help is if he is also deeply in love with his best friend, because at this point, there really is no other remedy to the pain he’s found himself in. It won’t fade (he’d thought it would at first, but years later it’s only gotten worse), it isn’t reciprocated (and probably never will be), and there’s no magical cure for unrequited love (he’s asked multiple people).

So there’s nothing Snufkin can say to Moomintroll that’ll enable him to help, because there’s no way for him to help. If he tries, it’ll make everything worse.

He could, in theory, pin it all on his difficult father/son relationship with Joxter; that way it’s believable because it’s true, but he knows Moomin will see through that too, because it’s really only taking up about twenty percent of his bad emotions.

Tears fall down his cheeks without his permission, and Moomintroll seems a little too unsurprised by that for Snufkin’s liking, standing and pulling Snufkin up too. “We don’t have to talk about it if you really don’t want to, but at the very least, you should let yourself cry,” Snufkin allows him to bring him over to the sofa, sitting down and folding himself close against the moomin, feeling instantly better when his arms circle around him and somehow pull him closer. “I’m here for you.”

And really, Snufkin has very little say on the matter anymore. The sobs he so carefully held back in the bathroom upstairs spill out of him, and with them, the tension and anger and despair slowly seeps out too. Of course it doesn’t fix anything, and he still feels terrible (his face is damp, as is Moomintroll’s shoulder, and it’s uncomfortable), and he hates crying more than most anything else, but it feels freeing to finally be able to just let it go.

Moomintroll’s paw gently strokes his hair, whispering soft assurances to him that everything will be fine, that it’s okay, that he’ll always be there if Snufkin needs him. It all makes him cry harder, knowing that if the troll knew he was in love with him, he would probably change his mind about all of that.

Snufkin feels both terrible for crying so much, and relieved to finally let it out, the closest he’ll get to ever letting Moomin know the depth of his sorrow over everything regarding their current situation. He feels endlessly selfish, too. Moomintroll probably has his own worries about it all too, and yet Snufkin is taking up all his time with vague panic and distant sadness.

Eventually, a bone deep ache settles in as the sobs become hitched breaths, tears slowing down until his eyes hurt but his cheeks stay dry. He’s so overcome with exhaustion that it feels almost impossible to not snuggle closer and close his eyes, the gentle paw in his hair soothing him into a deep slumber.

The last thing he remembers is a snout pressing against the top of his head softly, and an apology in his ears that doesn’t quite reach his conscious mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, projecting onto snufkin? no not at all... *hides*
> 
> anyway sorry for the hurt, but at least theres comfort too
> 
> i promise the next chap will be fluffier, but there will still be... _angst_


	10. 2nd Trimester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein everything gets soft and maybe things aren't as bad as Snufkin wants to think

The sound of birdsong rouses Snufkin from his sleep, a small yawn falling from his lips as he stretches out. Until he finds he can't.

Holding his breath, he opens his eyes slowly and feels his heart skip a beat; he must be in Moomintroll's bedroom, because he's greeted by a face full of white fur. It's oddly familiar, the situation reminiscent of the morning after their first tryst. His arms are wrapped loosely around Snufkin's waist, Snufkin's face pressed up against his chest, legs tangled together loosely.

His initial reaction is to push away, maybe roll off the bed and disappear to his tent so no one will know he spent the night. But really, why would it matter if people knew he spent the night being held close by his (not)boyfriend? They would probably find it weirder that Snufkin still sleeps in his tent every night, although he feels he has every right to sleep where he wants.

And with the way Moomintroll has Snufkin wrapped up in his arms, snout resting atop Snufkin’s head like they sleep like this so often that they have a natural position they always end up in, that’s most comfortable for them, he wonders if Moomin would be upset to wake up in an otherwise empty bed, sheets cold as though Snufkin was never there.

He is very comfortable. And warm. And the panic and worry and sadness from yesterday feel a whole lot duller when he’s close to his best friend, and he can’t get much closer than this.

Snufkin thinks of how cold and damp his tent will be, even with all the cushions and blankets he could ever wish for. Of how alone he’ll feel, even with the life growing inside of him. There’s no reality in which that would be preferable to the warmth and comfort he gets here, sleeping with Moomintroll.

Feeling guilty but not caring too much, Snufkin snuggles back in, closing his eyes and hearing a soft sigh from the troll as he twines his fingers into his chest fur carefully; yes, this is a lot better than leaving.

* * *

It can’t be too much later that Snufkin wakes again, although this time he isn’t so quick to understand. He’s pretty sure he was just having some kind of much-too-realistic dream, because everything feels like he’s under a thick layer of frosted glass. Distantly, he can hear someone muttering something, and a heavy weight on his middle, but it takes him a while to come around.

It’s warm, and he’s very happy to sink into Moomin’s mattress and stay there, surrounded by the softness of his bedsheets. But his eyes just don’t want to stay shut, and sleep will probably evade him now anyway.

Opening his eyes is a lot harder than Snufkin had expected, but he’s immediately more awake when he realises that the heavy weight on his stomach is actually Moomin’s paw over his shirt, gently caressing the swell of it. Moomintroll is quietly whispering, and Snufkin manages to make out a few words like ‘Pappa’ and ‘love’ and ‘lucky’ and he chokes up just a little bit.

There’s something painfully sweet about how soft Moomin’s voice is as he talks to their baby, a slight lilt of pride and excitement and love in his tone that has Snufkin just on the safe side of bursting into tears all over again (but for much nicer reasons this time). There's a similar soft fondness in his eyes, and it's just a lot to take in. His quiet rambling ceases when Snufkin shifts, eyes closed again and pretending to be asleep still.

“I don’t know what Snufkin would prefer to be called by you, but I think daddy is cute,” Moomin continues when Snufkin stops moving, and he has to bite his lip to not giggle at how hard the other is thinking about it. “I’ve got so many things I can’t wait to show you, little one, and so many stories to tell you…” His paw slips away, moving to Snufkin’s hair, touch soft and careful. “I wish we could do this more often, but your daddy doesn’t like to sleep here.”

Snufkin feels a pit sink deep in his stomach; of course it would seem that way to Moomin, who has no idea that it’s very much the opposite. Maybe he could change that, if only the thought of admitting that he likes to fall asleep with Moomintroll didn’t also come with the worry of having to tell him about why he doesn’t then sleep here. Though, it’s not really quite as clear cut as him not wanting to get used to something that’ll only be torn away from him once this is all over. Another, albeit smaller, reason is simply habit. He could use that as reasoning if Moomin asks. If he were to bring it up at all.

Deciding to see what happens regardless, Snufkin stretches out a little, blinking his eyes open tiredly so as to fool the troll into thinking he was deep asleep for all of his whispering.

Moomin stops whispering almost immediately, paw moving back to be around Snufkin’s waist (as though that’s any less of a conspicuous resting place for it), cheeks dusted slightly pink from ‘almost’ being caught.

“Good morning, Moomintroll,” Snufkin says quietly, trying not to blush himself (he needs to be the calm one this time, for his own peace of mind). “Were you saying something just now?”

“Um, good morning…” His friend chuckles awkwardly, looking up at the ceiling and avoiding Snufkin’s half-lidded gaze. “I was talking to the baby…?”

The mumrik nods in understanding, as though this is the first he knew of it, pushing himself up slightly so he can look down on Moomin, interrupting his staring contest with the wooden beams above them. “What were you two talking about?”

“Nothing really, it's our secret,” Moomin’s eyes lock with Snufkin’s, and the pit in his stomach from earlier fills with a warmth like sun-heated honey, melting away his lower moods. “Do you think they can hear us yet?”

Snufkin shrugs, sitting up completely and running a hand through his hair to untangle it. “I don’t know, but I think we should keep talking to them anyway, just in case.”

Moomin smiles, sitting up as well, asking him if he feels any better today. And with the light of the late morning sun shining in through the window and backlighting him, Snufkin thinks he could get used to waking up like this.

* * *

 

“Good morning you two- oh Snufkin, did you stay the night?” Pappa asks when the two of them wander down the stairs, the smell of plum jam on toast wafting up the stairs eventually convincing them to leave the comfort of the bed.

Snufkin nods as he sits to the table, ignoring the empty chair in between him and the older moomin that they didn't put away after Joxter left. "Yes, I hope that is okay."

Pappa frowns at the formal tone, and Little My makes some kind of annoyed sound, but Snufkin can't help feeling like he's intruding on their family time still (and it is a little bit ridiculous, he knows, but he can't shake the feeling). "Of course it is, you're family. You can stay whenever you want."

Moomintroll chuckles quietly, standing behind Snufkin's chair to put a cup of tea in front of him. "I've been trying to tell him that for years, Pappa, he won't understand what you mean."

Snufkin frowns up at him as he leans over, but it's in jest; he's glad he's in a better mood today, otherwise that comment may have hurt him more than he'd be happy to admit. But there's still that fond softness in Moomin's eyes as there was this morning when he was talking to the baby, and that softens the blow anyway.

"What? It's true, don't look at me like that," the troll shrugs, ignoring the way Little My gags when he nuzzles his snout against Snufkin's hair. "You're stubborn like that."

Mamma comes in from the garden once they've all made their way through the toast, a bunch of flowers in a basket hanging from her arm. "Good morning everyone," she smiles brightly when they respond, apologising for not eating with them. "Do you feel any better today, Snufkin dear?"

"Yes thank you, Mamma," She seems satisfied with his short response, replacing the flowers in the vase on the table with some from her basket before her and Pappa leave to see Muddler and Fuzzy. "I thought you were at Snorkmaiden's?" He directs his attention to his sister after saying goodbye, taking a sip of his tea pointedly.

"I was, but her cooking is still disastrous, so I came back for breakfast," she says this as though it's obvious, but there's a slight blush to her cheeks that has Snufkin intrigued. "Don't tell her I said that though, she thinks I wanted to check up on you."

"Okay I will," Moomin interjects, dodging the piece of toast she throws at him expertly. Snufkin is tempted to throw some back, but she's a difficult target in a food fight due to her small size, so he continues to drink his tea calmly. "In fact, I'm headed over there in a moment anyway."

He wonders what they're going to do, but decides it's none of his business, laughing when Little My manages to land the second piece of jam coated toast squarely on Moomin's face, leaving a sticky purple rectangle on his snout. "Fuck you Moomintroll."

Snufkin pretends to be scandalised by her swearing, but he can't be serious when Moomin is sulking, with a jam print on his face. "I'm hurt that you used me as an excuse. Whatever happened to being brutally honest?"

"I can't do that to her, and you'll live so it works out well." They stick their tongues out at each other (although if asked, Snufkin will deny doing so).

"Snufkin…" Moomin whines, eyes crossed as he tries to assess the jam damage. "Help me please?"

He rolls his eyes but follows him into the bathroom anyway, wetting a flannel as the troll sits on a stool and stands in front of him to wipe off the jam. "Couldn't you do this yourself?"

"Yes, but then I couldn't have done this," Moomin responds, paws on Snufkin's hips as he pulls him closer until he's straddling his lap, grinning cheekily when the mumrik makes a noise that is  _ not _ a squeak in surprise. "How do you kiss?"

Snufkin stops rubbing at the jam for a moment, frowning. They haven't kissed his way yet? Really? In this position, there's no way he isn't asking that for any other reason than to learn by example. "Um, I could show you?"

When Moomintroll nods, Snufkin puts the flannel down (most of the jam is off anyway) and moves so he's a little comfier before tilting the moomin’s head until he can reach his lips easily. He can feel how hard he's blushing, and maybe friends don't kiss the way they're about to, but how can he care when Moomin's paws are slipping up under his shirt, thumbs rubbing against the sensitive skin of his waist.

When their lips meet, it's a little awkward (their noses keep bumping), but his lips are soft under Snufkin's, and he can practically feel the troll's excitement as he exhales against him. Snufkin decides to take it slowly, lips moving only slightly against Moomin's, but it seems to be enough to confuse him, his mouth opening on a confused gasp. Shrugging, Snufkin takes the initiative and lets his tongue slide along Moomintroll's lower lip, a surge of pride flooding his mind when it makes him shudder, paws tightening on his waist.

They pull apart, and Moomintroll laughs a little, running his tongue along his lip where Snufkin's tongue was just now. "It's weird, but I like it," he hums, one of his paws sliding down to the mumrik's behind. "Was that as dirty as it gets?"

Snufkin laughs, rolling his eyes as he climbs off his lap and picks the flannel up again to finish cleaning him. "Moomintroll, you fiend," Once the fur on his snout is back to its normal white, Snufkin taps his nose gently. "It can get a lot dirtier, but if you're going to Snorkmaiden's then we shouldn't go too far."

Moomin huffs disappointedly, and it makes him flush a little (he's wanted, genuinely, actually wanted, not just because they're both desperate for a release) as they leave the bathroom. "Fine. Maybe later then?" And when Moomin sends a wink over his shoulder, Snufkin finds he can't refuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, touch starved and lonely as all fuck: starts crying as im writing this chapter at 4 in the morning
> 
> um some fluff because chapter 9 hurt a lot and im in a bad mood
> 
> some smut next because moomintroll is a fiend and you cant tell me he isnt. i wont listen.
> 
> also your lovely comments make me cry a lot, which is why i havent replied yet. i will, but i dont know when, but i love all of you
> 
> ! also also sorry for the tone change im a mess


	11. 2nd Trimester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Snufkin loses his mind and the boys try something new

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut ahead!
> 
> also just a quick clarification i've updated the tags again lol, reread them (9.7.19)
> 
> (i tried to keep to 'ambiguous genitals' for snufkin because i want to keep it that way but this chapter does get a little more descriptive about snufkin's parts, jsyk)

Snufkin spends the rest of the day in an odd kind of stupor, mind far away and someplace else entirely, full of thoughts that chase each other around in a circle like a dog chasing its tail. Little My doesn't mention it, probably chalking it up to him being pregnant (Mamma brought up the concept of 'baby brain' last night when he'd disappeared to the bathroom apparently).

And he's glad he has a valid excuse, because being pregnant is a much better reason for being absent-minded than thinking about getting… Wrecked, for want of a better word (there is one, but Snufkin refuses to use it).

Of course, it's not the  _ only  _ thing on his mind. There's a lot. But it does all revolve around Moomintroll, so it's still a very empty excuse.

And being in Moominhouse alone (because Little My decided she'd had enough of Snufkin's airheaded-ness) only makes it worse, because he could just go into Moomin's bedroom and relieve some of the excitement coursing through his veins.

He won't, because he is decent. But as the seconds slip past, he begins to doubt that. After all, what's so different about bringing himself off on Moomintroll's bed to getting them both off?

When Snufkin realises he's rationalising fingering himself in Moomin's room, he decides to walk out of the house to get some fresh air (and to ensure he doesn't actually do it). The air is fresh, beginning to turn from chilly to a humid kind of warm that fills his lungs and replaces the frazzled excitement lingering there.

Outside, perched on the fence of the veranda, Snufkin lets his mind wander a little more, without the temptation to do something about his thoughts.

Moomintroll.

Always first, of course. And if it's not him first then it's the baby, who is tangentially tied to the moomin. And then if it’s neither of them, it’s the crippling panic of everything else that made yesterday so bad, and he’d really rather not go back down that route right now. He's not going to let those thoughts drag him back into another depressive day, not when today is going pretty well all things considered.

Back to Moomin then, he relents, unable to ignore the flush that creeps up his neck as his mind races back through the kiss and the wink and his paw on Snufkin's rear.

Oh how badly he wishes he'd demanded Moomintroll go to Snorkmaiden's later so they could finish what he'd started. Hindsight, Snufkin laments. He could be out for a long time, and maybe he'll be too tired to continue when he comes back, which would be so unfortunate (maybe he'd want to watch Snufkin though… He could live with that).

He casts his mind back to thoughts of a next time, how genuinely interested Moomin had been  _ for _ a next time, even alluding to remembering how Snufkin enjoyed being bitten… Snufkin hides his face in his hands even though he knows no one else is around. It’s just so much! If only the troll knew how stir crazy he drives him. His mind wanders down the gutter; what would they do today? They can be loud, no one will be home if Moomin comes home soon enough.   


Would Snufkin allow himself to ask for a proper mate bite? One that breaks the skin and declares them mates once and for all? Would non-horny Snufkin even want that?

Because horny Snufkin really does.

He’s not going to ask today though. He’s still feeling a bit sensitive after yesterday’s events, so as much as he wants something a little rougher, Snufkin is going to make sure he asks for Moomin to be careful with him.

Oh goodness. Will he ever get used to these thoughts filling his mind without leaving any room for anything else?

Snufkin is so flustered, his face still in his hands, he doesn’t even notice when Moomintroll returns, stopping halfway up the steps of the veranda. “ Snufkin? Are you okay?”

He startles, eyes wide in shock when they land on the troll before he laughs awkwardly. “Yeah, sorry. Just… Thinking.”

“About what?” Moomintroll’s eyes eyes darken a little, like he already knows, and Snufkin wonders if he’s been just as tortured whilst away as he has been. It’s a nice thought.

Slipping off the fence with enough grace to be proud, Snufkin takes Moomin’s paw and pulls him into the house, shutting the door behind him before standing back against it. “Well. We have the house to ourselves until dinner time. Maybe even later.”

“Is that so?” Moomintroll stops directly in front of him, a paw on the door next to Snufkin’s head and snout close enough that if he just tilted his head slightly, they could press their lips together and continue where they left off in the bathroom this morning. “Why is that special?”

Snufkin rolls his eyes, letting his hands play with the troll’s fur absently as his other paw gently cups his cheek. “Don’t know, you tell me.”

They laugh quietly before Moomin (with a little difficulty, but they manage) touches his lips against Snufkin’s, effectively quieting their humour as the atmosphere from the bathroom returns. Taking it slow again, they keep it gentle, lips moving against each other smoothly. Snufkin is hyperaware of every sensation, making sure their noses don’t bump as they get closer, feeling Moomin’s quiet breaths against his lips like little puffs of air.   


Crowding him back against the door a little more, Moomintroll slides his tongue along the seam of Snufkin’s lips, similar to the way the mumrik had done to him before. His mouth falls open a little, letting his own tongue touch against the other’s and delighting in the confused gasp it draws from him. Deciding he can’t be bothered with teasing, Snufkin coaxes Moomin’s tongue into his mouth , smiling a little when he makes a noise somewhere between a moan and a questioning hum.

Slow, he thinks, letting Moomin decide what he wants to do next. The wooden carving on the door against his back feels a little uncomfortable, but he likes being pressed against it, likes the way it draws attention to the contrast of his friend’s tongue in his mouth, soft and warm and wet.

After too long of a pause for his liking, Snufkin loops his arms around the troll’s neck and presses his mouth more insistently against his, feeling their tongues slide against each other. It feels sort of odd (and it must feel even odder for the moomin, who has never kissed like this before), but nonetheless it causes a stirring in his gut that he is beginning to associate with Moomintroll, only made worse when the paw that was cupping his cheek slides down to rest at his hip, fiddling with the waistband of his trousers.

The mumrik moans softly when Moomin rubs his tongue against the roof of his mouth, blushing when his fingers slip down into the front of his trousers whilst he is distracted. Snufkin pulls back for air, not quite as flustered as he could be, frowning a little when he looks down and finds he can only just see his paw disappear into his trousers over his baby bump. It’s so strange to see, made even stranger by the knowledge that it’s only going to get bigger the closer they get to his due date.

The troll nudges his head back up with his snout, meeting his eyes with a silent question. Snufkin takes a deep breath before smiling, hoping it looks genuine (because it is), pushing the baby thoughts away to a deeper corner of his mind to be thought about another time. In the name of distraction, he presses their lips together again, feeling Moomin relax back into it too. It’s a lot easier to forget his worries with his fingers teasingly tracing their way down between his legs, his mouth opening up under Snufkin’s tongue, the way his mouth tastes flooding his taste buds.

Sweet, like honey. Is honey all he eats? Snufkin laughs quietly into the kiss, tongue swirling around Moomintroll’s, making his fingers stutter in their exploration of his inner thighs. Good, he thinks, letting his teeth graze against his bottom lip as he pulls back again, keeping their lips connected but mouth closed.

A sharp gasp forces him to pull back, eyes screwed shut as Moomin rubs his thumb over his crotch slowly but surely, making the fur all sticky. “So wet already, Snufkin,” he murmurs against his lips, replacing his thumb with his forefinger and letting it push against his entrance teasingly. “All for me…”

He sighs, not voicing how cocky the troll sounds because it’s embarrassingly true, cheeks hot and he shamefully feels himself get wetter at the observation. Moomintroll pulls his finger back to slowly rub against the skin around his hole, careful and controlled and way too lightly for Snufkin to feel even slightly pleasured enough.

He thinks to beg for it, but Moomin doesn’t deserve to hear him beg yet.

“I’m going to finger-fuck you against this door so well, your knees will turn to jelly.” Moomintroll explains, his words sending a shiver down Snufkin’s spine, and he believes him, the profanity easily ignored in favour of rolling his hips against his paw to get some more friction.

Moomintroll takes pity then, sliding his forefinger back into his entrance slowly, not nearly enough to satisfy the mumrik but enough for him to bite his lip to hold back a moan, head knocking uncomfortably against the window pane. The tip of his finger presses against his walls as if mapping out every velvety bump and roll of spongey flesh, trying to find the areas that make Snufkin whine, make his muscles quiver.

His finger obviously can’t reach far up enough inside of him to hit that spot that drives him wild when he’s thrusting into him, but it feels just as nice when his finger presses against the front wall, rubbing for a moment before it pulls out.

Giving him a moment to breathe (he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding his breath), Moomin presses his lips to the juncture of Snufkin’s neck and shoulder, placing small kisses across the skin there. It feels kind of ticklish, soft compared to the slick slide of his fingers against his entrance.

When the troll pushes his forefinger back in with his middle finger, Snufkin grabs onto the fur of his neck, hips pushing against the intrusion with a desperation he’s embarrassed to show. Moomin crooks his fingers forward against the front wall, like he did with his first finger, rubbing the area there with determination, making Snufkin tingle all over. It feels sinfully good, heat spreading from where his fingers are abusing upwards and outwards, flooding his nerves with sensation.   


Snufkin cries out a little when Moomin presses his fingertips leisurely upwards, thumb slipping into place over the bundle of nerves above his entrance, slippery with Snufkin’s natural slick. The pressure of his fingers inside and pushing against the back of where his thumb is rubbing drives Snufkin past the point of comfort, finding his knees beginning to shake as pleasure races through him without a care for his composure.

He wants to cry, or scream, or just open his mouth and let whatever sounds Moomin drags out of him escape, but he’s not close enough yet to let himself go.

“M-more,” he whispers, clenching around Moomintroll’s fingers to affirm what he wants. “Please.”

Snufkin is endlessly glad that Moomin doesn’t seem to be in a teasing mood anymore when he pushes a third finger in alongside the others, spreading them out inside of him slowly but surely in a way that makes him see stars.

The wood against his back barely even registers anymore, head thrown back and arms tight around his friend’s neck to hold him up because his legs are too weak to support him. It’s such a blissful feeling, to be stretched out by three of his fingers, and rubbed slowly to the edge of the building orgasm he can feel deep in his gut. Moomin’s thumb continues to rub slow circles on and around the bundle of nerves, thrusting his fingers shallowly.

Snufkin pulls Moomin in close for another kiss, this time more desperate and rushed, ignoring the way their teeth clack a little in their need for closeness, whines and moans spilling into the troll’s mouth from Snufkin’s lips like a steady stream of desire.

There’s a wet sound as Moomintroll’s cock slides out of its sheath, and Snufkin lets one of his hands slide down to grasp it, a question in his eyes when they look at each other. Once he has confirmation to do what he wants, Snufkin lets go to push his trousers down a little, halfway down his thighs, making sure not to dislodge Moomin’s paw from his crotch as he does so.

“You can- ah, use my th-thighs…” He explains as he stops Moomintroll from pulling his fingers out. When the other stops playing with him in confusion, Snufkin groans loudly with slight annoyance, placing the tip of his cock to the top of his thighs, sticky with his slick. “Like usual, but b-between my thighs.”

“Oh.” Moomin intelligently replies, pushing his hips forward experimentally. It feels strange, but the troll seems to like it, eyes wide as he does it again, almost like he wasn’t expecting it to feel so good. Snufkin pushes his legs tighter together to increase the friction, the brush of his cock against the skin of his thighs and his nether regions both uncomfortable and maddeningly good.

Slowly, Moomin goes back to thrusting his fingers into him quickly but not deeply, thumb pressing against his pleasure spot harder as his thrusts between his thighs speed up. Neither of them are very far from coming undone, slick almost  _ gushing _ out of him as Moomintroll goes back to rubbing his walls forcefully, with the clear goal of making him cum.

It feels so good, so wrong to do it against their  _ front door _ that the realisation that this is actually a shared space only turns Snufkin on more, squeezing his thighs tighter even more and delighting in the strained groan it forces out of Moomin.

He’s close, can feel his orgasm ready to knock him for six at any second, can tell Moomin is almost there too as his thrusting loses the rhythm it had and becomes somewhat messy, the wet, slick sound of his member rubbing against the skin of his thighs gross and amazing and loud in the otherwise empty entrance way.   


Moomin’s forefinger presses harder against his insides, his thumb rubbing more deliberately on the side that makes Snufkin shudder, and his orgasm hits like a tidal wave, legs shaking and jaw slack as he breathes through it, mostly silent but unable to stay still throughout it.

The sudden flood of slick as Moomin removes his fingers from Snufkin’s hole eases his thrusts and his head rests on Snufkin’s shoulder as he cums, stilling, both of them panting and buzzing with post-orgasm energy.

“... We need to… C-clean the door…” Moomin mutters distractedly, grimacing when Snufkin makes a grossed out noise as the troll’s cum begins to cool between his thighs and… On the door. Gross.

“I’m not the one th-that came on the door, that’s your job.” Snufkin declares, deciding to take a bath right now, knowing that if he leaves it too long, his thighs will chafe. If he can make the stairs on his wobbly knees that is. At least Moomin delivers what he says he will.

They meet eyes and burst into breathless giggles. This, Snufkin can deal with. There’s no question of if they’re too close when they can’t think through the hilarity of the situation. Pleasantly buzzed and freed from the absent-mindedness of needing to get off, Snufkin leaves Moomintroll to clean the evidence of their misdoings up, pulling his trousers off and making his way upstairs slowly, holding onto the handrail tightly in case his legs give out.

He’s going to have a bath and enjoy the quiet stillness of Moominhouse with no one else but the two of them in it whilst he can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ew gross he came on the door
> 
> anyway see ya with the next chapter! i promise i will reply to comments soon, sorry it's taking a long time ^^;


	12. 2nd Trimester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Moomin takes Snufkin on a picnic and plans are made

Snufkin stays in his tent that night (if he's honest, he's not sure his heart would be able to cope with waking up to being cuddled by Moomintroll two mornings in a row), and only feels slightly miserable because of it. But it's for a good reason, and it gives him a chance to cool down.

Be alone. Enjoy some time to himself. Listen to the stream tinkle and splash in the quiet of the night. Let nature calm his racing mind and heart enough to send him off to sleep.

It's nice. It's easy to forget just how much he  _ needs _ his alone time when his heart is yearning so pitifully for Moomin's company, for Moomin's touch, for Moomin. At least on his own, there's no getting used to it before it's stripped away from him.

"Good morning," he hums softly to the baby, rubbing his stomach absently as he gets dressed, listening out for any other people awake. There's a lot of noise coming from Moominhouse, but that's not unusual. "We're going to have to think of a name soon, can't just call you 'the baby' for too long."

Snufkin imagines the baby has no idea what he's talking about, but it makes him smile regardless. Probably can't even hear him yet.

His shirt, although very spacious and comfortable, feels a little tighter around his waist today, and with a deep sigh, Snufkin acquiesces to the idea that he'll need to ask Mamma or Mymble for some help with getting some… Maternity clothes. Ugh. New clothes. Just the thought of new, stiff, scratchy fabric against his skin makes his hair stand on end, skin crawling. But there's no way he can continue wearing his normal clothes for much longer if he's going to keep growing.

People will start noticing by then, for sure. He can already sense the gossip mill rolling a mile a minute when someone who isn't close to them sees Snufkin in new clothes, slightly rounder and heavier than before, with a glow about him that he never had before.

"Is that really Snufkin?" Ms Fillyjonk might say, much too loudly to be considered a whisper, because she doesn't believe he could ever be anything but a dirty vagabond (he'd find it rude if it wasn't somewhat true).

"Following in his mother's footsteps, I see." The Hemulen might reply, snide and judging in his old way, not realising that his words cut deep into Snufkin's self-esteem.

Perhaps the worst part of it all would be that Snufkin knows that most of their judgements wouldn't be wrong. But it hurts nonetheless. He's endlessly thankful for how well their friends and family took the news, because if they hadn't he wouldn't know what to do.

Most people (not including Moomintroll, who seems to know Snufkin better than he knows himself sometimes) probably think that he doesn't care about what others think about him. He wishes that were true. Sure, he can wave most things off, give off the illusion of being above it all. But sometimes, in the dead of night, he'll get to overthinking.

Recently, with his hormones all over the place and his emotional state  _ very _ compromised by both the baby and his fake relationship with Moomin, other people's opinions have been on his mind a lot more.

Leaving the tent, he frowns. The sun is much higher in the sky than he'd expected it to be, and a quick glance to the veranda confirms his observation, Mamma clearing away the breakfast table. He's woken up late.

It's not a problem, as such, but Snufkin doesn't like to sleep in, to waste some of the day when he could be doing more important things. Like fishing, or talking to Moomintroll, or preparing for the baby.

Snufkin takes a deep breath and forces himself to stop frowning, heating up some coffee and eating an apple. They have time. He should write that down somewhere so he won’t forget it.

When he knocks on the door of Moominhouse about half an hour later, there’s some hurried footsteps and the sound of something being placed on the floor before it opens. “Good morning Snufkin, have you had breakfast?” Moomintroll has a slight flush to his face as Snufkin walks in and closes the door behind him, their positions reminding them both of their activities yesterday. On the floor next to the moomin’s feet is a somewhat heavily packed picnic basket.

“Good morning. Yes I have. Are you going on a picnic?” Snufkin gestures to the basket, sidestepping to move away from the (very thoroughly cleaned) door.

Moomin nods, picking it up again and opening the door. “ _ We  _ are going on a picnic. If you want to that is.”

A picnic lunch with Moomintroll? It’s almost like a date.

No, he can’t think that. It’ll look like a date to everyone who knows they’re ‘in a relationship’ but it isn’t actually a date. There’s no benefit to fooling himself. “That sounds nice.”

* * *

 

The two of them walk a little ways downstream from Moominhouse, in a direction Snufkin doesn’t often head, especially when they wind around some trees where a small section of the stream breaks off and heads to the sea in a different direction.

Moomintroll seems unnecessarily nervous, but it’s incredibly endearing how he can’t seem to stop rambling. “- and I don’t know what he was doing but Joxter seems adamant about sleeping on top of the cupboards, which I swear isn’t safe, and he’s much too big to get up there safely, but he ignored us all until Mamma came down this morning and told him to get down.”

Snufkin chuckles quietly, enjoying hearing about his father’s antics. “Is father still there?”

“Yeah, although he’s going to be bored out of his mind with everyone else being out or busy today.”

“He’ll probably just nap then,” Snufkin says. If there’s one thing he knows about his father, it’s that his reputation of being lazy somehow precedes him. “Or annoy Pappa.”

“Pappa would just annoy him back, I think. They seem to have that kind of relationship,” Moomintroll thinks out loud, changing course slightly when they reach some bushes that appear to be surrounding some kind of glade. “We’re here.”

They step out into a glade full of flowers, beautiful and bright and colourful, chaotic in their natural growth. A sweet, floral scent fills the air around them, and Snufkin takes a deep breath just to appreciate it even more. There’s a patch of grass with no flowers on it near the other side, but everything about it feels real, natural, unhindered by anyone else. It’s the exact opposite of Ms Fillyjonk’s garden; exactly the kind of messy beauty that makes Snufkin smile, heart warm.   


“Moomin, it’s beautiful,” he exclaims, voice slightly breathy with awe. How has he never seen this place before? “How did you find it?”

When Snufkin turns to look at the troll, his eyes are filled with a bright joy that Snufkin feels might reflect his own, but there’s an underlying softness to his gaze that makes his heart ache. Such a lovely Moomintroll he’s found.

“I asked Snorkmaiden to help me find somewhere nice I could take you, and so we went on a little adventure yesterday,” he explains, setting the basket down in the grass and laying a blanket down over an area with less flowers so they don’t crumple them when they sit. So that’s why he went to Snorkmaiden’s yesterday? For him? “And when we found this place, I just knew you’d love it.”

Snufkin sits cross legged on the blanket, watching a bee fly around his head before landing on his hat as he places it next to him. “That’s really thoughtful of you.”

They talk about everything and nothing as they enjoy the quiet, serene isolation of the glade, the trees around the edge swaying gently in the soft late Spring breeze. Their lunch consists of cucumber sandwiches and light victoria sponge, refreshing and sweet and not too much to set off Snufkin’s sickness again (it’s one thing to be ill in a house, but on a picnic would just be horrible). It makes him feel a little emotional again, hearing Moomin explain why he didn’t pack much more food just in case it upset the mumrik’s stomach, knowing that he cares so much. It’s nice.

Once their food is eaten and thoroughly enjoyed, they relax a little, Snufkin pulling his hat over his face as he lays down, listening to the sounds of nature and trying to pinpoint each noise. There’s the stream gently flowing down towards the sea, the pitch slightly higher than from the stream next to Moominhouse due to its smaller size, but similar in speed and rhythm. Some birds sing to each other high in the treetops around them, soft and gentle. If he really focuses, he can hear the bees buzzing around the many different flowers of the glade, collecting pollen as they go, doing what nature intended for them. It’s the kind of peaceful Snufkin endeavors to find when he travels, never quite reaching a place quite as perfect in its imperfections as this glade.

Beside him, Moomintroll seems to be focused on something entirely separate to Snufkin, the almost silent sound of flowers being picked in the way he showed him years ago that wouldn't disrupt their continued growth only just audible beneath the other sounds of the glade.

Peeking out from under his hat, they smile at each other, soft and relaxed, as if any worries they have are melted away in favour of enjoying their surroundings. There’s no flower crown in his paws like Snufkin had expected, just a pile of flowers, stems carefully trimmed down and slightly pointed at the end. “Can I borrow your hat please, Snuff?”

He passes his hat over to the other, pushing himself up to rest on his hands as he watches the moomin place the flowers in a methodically random organisation on the brim of his hat. When he’s done, he passes the hat back with an almost shy smile, as if concerned about whether he’s done the right thing.   


“Lovely,” Snufkin says to reassure him, putting his hat on and finding the weight distribution to be even enough that he can’t tell the difference. “Thank you, Moomin.”

* * *

 

They stay in the glade for hours, watching nature with an idle fascination, cloud watching for a while, making small wreaths from the grass and chatting some more. In this moment, everything feels normal, like they’re just a snufkin and a moomin sharing stories and being close friends, the way they always have been.

Moomintroll sits up after a while, looking out over the glade with a distant look on his face, like he’s overthinking something. “I had a thought… Well, no. I’ve been thinking, about Moominhouse.”

Snufkin’s brows furrow a little in response, confused about why that’s something he needs to think about. Of course, he has been thinking about Moominhouse too, quite a lot, about how hectic it can get. But why would Moomin be thinking about it? Especially since that hecticness is normal for the troll.

“It can get so busy, especially when we have guests over, and sometimes it can be a little too messy, and there’s so much that happens, and so many people,” the troll doesn’t take a breath, and Snufkin has to focus hard on his words to make sure he can understand what he’s saying. “And there are dangerous things sometimes too, if we have particularly difficult guests or someone comes to look for them. It seems like Moominhouse just attracts a lot of attention, like when the Groke visited, do you remember? And how scary that was, and a little too dangerous… Especially for a baby…”

Oh.

Keeping quiet, trying to not let his realisation show on his face, Snufkin finds his stomach filling with butterflies. He doesn’t mean…

Moomintroll turns to look at him then, expression open and a little vulnerable, eyes searching his for something he thinks might be apprehension, and he hopes he doesn’t find any. “If I were to build us a house here, in this glade, nicely of course, and not disturbing the nature too much, would you live with me?”

The question doesn’t fill him with the dread one would expect it to. Over the years, Snufkin’s fears of being forgotten, or trapped here forever, have mellowed out into something a lot more manageable. He may be a vagabond by nature, a mumrik without bonds or ties, but really, deep down, he knows that’s not true, at least not anymore. Moomintroll, and by extension, Moominvalley, is home. And he knows that whenever he needs space, or to travel, that he’ll always end up coming back, and that Moomin will be sad but ultimately supportive, knowing he’ll have Snufkin again by the Spring at the very latest. The troll has never tried to force Snufkin to stay, has always let him be a free spirit, and he knows that will never change.

Besides. What’s the difference, really, between living in a tent outside Moomin’s house and living in a house with him, in this beautiful glade? Worst comes to the worst, he knows Moomin won’t be upset if Snufkin has to sleep outside every now and then just to escape for a while. With Moomintroll, no matter where they are, he always has the freedom to be himself, and that’s all he could ever need. Plus, having their own house in a more secluded area than Moominhouse is probably better for all of them anyway (and if it means he can wake up in his arms more often, without worrying about losing that comfort eventually, then who is he to refuse?).

And so he nods, because it makes sense, and Moomintroll’s relief is almost palpable, excitement replacing the vulnerability in his sky blue eyes (a much better look for him, in Snufkin’s opinion).

A place of their own. It’s daunting, but sure to be an adventure, and Snufkin loves adventures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soft soft soft
> 
> wanna know [what happened when Pappa and Joxter were left alone in Moominhouse?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19290787) (uh hint, they're not at all so different to their sons lmao)(also not compulsory reading, adds nothing to the plot, literally just a chance for me to slip in some og snufmin while i can lmao)
> 
> wanna focus on snufs other problems more than his issue of being tied down _just yet_ so for now he's fine with having some place to call his. also snufkin having some form of logic in this fic? gasp. its too ooc
> 
> honestly bless the pomodoro technique (it's just a timer thing) for helping me focus enough to write this chapter in just under two hours
> 
> when will i reply to comments lmao. just know ive read them all and i love you all even more each day :3


	13. 2nd Trimester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein they have dinner (as usual) and Joxter has some advice to impart

When they return to Moominhouse late in the evening, cheeks flushed from laughter, excitement and being slightly wind-bitten, they’re just in time for dinner. The table is set with an extra few seats, one for Joxter and another for Snorkmaiden, on either side of Snufkin and Moomin.

"So, what did everyone do today?" Mamma asks halfway through the meal (a delicious vegetable stew that Snufkin is seriously considering asking for the recipe for), when the previous conversations run dry. When no one speaks up first, she volunteers herself to start it off, detailing her day out with Mymble, saying something about the two of them making something that they have to keep secret. Snufkin frowns, especially when Little My asks if it’s  _ for  _ Snufkin, watching Mamma nod but tell her to be quiet anyway.

Pappa goes next, complaining about Joxter interrupting his writing time. It causes a slight argument between the two of them until the mumrik starts to say something, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, that Pappa really doesn’t seem to like, kicking him (not too viciously) under the table. Snufkin can tell his father is hiding something by being purposefully annoying, but they both calm down before he can figure it out, allowing Little My to talk about her day.

Snufkin tries to listen, but Moomintroll seems to think it’s a good time to shuffle a little closer to him, leaning in close to whisper to him. “Are we going to tell them?”

He shrugs, pushing him back a little in case anyone thinks they’re being rude. “If you want.” He whispers back, trying not to let the way their thighs brush up against each other send him into a distracted frenzy.

Little My glares at them both, stopping her description of a shark she saw in the sea this afternoon (her father, perhaps?) to tell them both off for not paying attention. Snufkin apologises, but still struggles with paying attention, even when it’s Snorkmaiden’s turn. His mind won't leave the warmth emanating from the troll next to him, demanding he lean in just a little, just to enjoy it. It takes all his concentration to  _ not _ do that.

Eventually, it’s their turn, and Snufkin turns to Moomintroll with a grimace, but the troll seems prepared to tell them already, and he finds himself a little thankful he won’t have to say it himself. “Snorkmaiden already knows, but we went on a picnic today, not too far downstream,” Moomin explains, and Snorkmaiden perks up, a huge smile on her face when she looks between them. Snufkin gets the feeling she knew what Moomintroll planned to ask when they were there, so he smiles back at her in a way he hopes expresses his gratitude. “To a nice glade where I’m going to build us a house.”

Mamma and Pappa also seem completely nonplussed by it, nodding with a polite amount of interest, so he must’ve told them about it too, which leaves Little My and Joxter to take up the role of being most shocked.

“You? Build a house? Please, the last time you tried to build a house, you built it on sand. And it looked terrible anyway, even though it only lasted for a few minutes,” Little My exclaims, brows furrowed when Snorkmaiden tells her off for being mean. “Um, sorry, but if this is a house for both of you, I’d rather it be well made than risk it being unsafe for both my brother and his child.”

Snufkin feels both embarrassed by her protectiveness and a little moved, although mostly he just feels perturbed. When did Moomintroll  _ ever _ make a house? He’s sure it couldn’t have been that bad, right?

The look on Moomintroll’s face, of mortification and frustration, makes him change his mind. There’s no way he’d be so incensed by her words if she was exaggerating. “Well Pappa promised to help, and I’ve been doing some reading, so I know what I’m doing this time, okay?” Snufkin thinks back to when they… Relieved some tension during the last week of hibernation, a book on house-building being plucked out of the moomin’s paws in his desperation to ease the aching lust they were both experiencing, and suddenly things click into place.

Had he really been thinking about them having their own house for  _ that _ long? Almost as soon as Snufkin told him of their little (amazing) accident? Is it possible to fall deeper in love with someone when you were already certain you’d fallen as far as you could?

Snufkin thinks it might unfortunately be possible.

When he zones back in, he finds that Little My doesn’t seem to be convinced, but she does relent, ignoring everyone else as they resume their dinner, Joxter mostly silent.

* * *

 

Joxter pulls Snufkin out to the garden after dessert, not really giving him much of a choice on the matter, and they sit down by the stream, watching the fish swim lazily downstream towards the sea.

Snufkin wonders if he’s going to tell him off for betraying the mumrik ways of not moving into houses, or give him some kind of lecture on respecting the mumrik way, or something like that.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” He asks instead, voice a little quiet because he isn’t facing him, talking away from them like his words need to follow the fish out to sea or else they won’t be voiced.

Frowning, Snufkin tucks his feet under his crossed legs, not really sure how to respond but knowing he means the house. “Well… We love each other, doesn’t it make sense that we should live together? Have a house to raise our child?” A lie, of course, but it’s what everyone believes, so it’s the best explanation. How can Snufkin  _ truthfully _ explain his thoughts about it when it’d bring their façade of a loving relationship down on top of them?

His father groans, holding his head in his hands like he has a headache, hat knocked backwards and off his head. Snufkin picks it up so it won’t fly away, setting it in his lap. “Seriously?” There’s not much in the way of judgement in his voice, more a resigned exhalation, but the word still makes Snufkin feel small, like he’s made a bad decision. Can he tell that he’s lying? Or maybe he just finds ‘love’ to be false? He doesn’t know. “Snufkin, if we’re anything alike, which I believe we are from what I’ve heard and seen so far, then I  _ know  _ you can’t stay in one place, tied to the same people.”

Joxter reaches over to take his hat back before deciding against it, stealing Snufkin’s instead and placing it on his head. He narrows his eyes, but finds himself too distracted by his father’s words to really care about him taking his hat. He has a point of course, as that is one of his biggest worries of all. But he knows how to rationally combat those kinds of thoughts. Sometimes. Maybe Joxter never found a different solution to running away. “Moomintroll isn’t the type to keep me under lock and key, father. He understands my need to travel, even if it upsets him.”

“I used to think something similar,” Joxter admits, meeting his eyes for the first time that night, a darkness so different from the teasing mischief that was there during dinner clouding his blue eyes. “Moomins… They need things that mumriks just can’t give them.”

Internally, Snufkin agrees. There’s so much he wishes he could give Moomintroll, from the constant company he tries to pretend he doesn’t need to make Snufkin feel better about leaving, to being able to spend more time around other people, to being honest with him about his feelings. Those are things he needs that Snufkin can’t give him. He wonders what things Moominpappa needed from Joxter that he couldn’t give him (he knew there was something there), and thinking of how well matched Pappa and Mamma are, he finds he might be able to guess.

There’s a sigh from Joxter then, whilst Snufkin thinks, and he wants to ask so badly, curious to know what happened, but he decides they don’t know each other well enough for that yet. “I’m not you, and Moomintroll isn’t Moominpappa,” his words are slow and well said, and he sounds so sure of himself that he’s actually a little bit shocked by his conviction. But it’s true. Whilst there are similarities, ultimately they are not their fathers, and Snufkin knows this well. “I don’t know what happened between the two of you, and I hope you’re working on it, but Moomin and I aren’t like that. We can compromise.”

“Good. Because we couldn’t, and I’ve regretted it ever since,” Joxter gives him back his hat as he stands, stretching before smiling. Snufkin can’t help but think it looks fake, and finds himself a little worried. “Make sure it’s always equal. You both deserve to be happy. Truly happy, not just faking it for the sake of making him feel better.”

He accepts Joxter’s hands, helping him to stand back up off the riverbank. “Father, are you unhappy? You should talk about it with him, whatever it is.” Snufkin cringes a little, knowing how much of a hypocrite he is. At least he’s self aware.

“... We’re working on it. Besides, how can I be unhappy when I get to spend as much time with your mother as we want?” He winks, and Snufkin rolls his eyes, pushing the red hat into Joxter’s hands unceremoniously.

“I don’t want to know.”

Compromise. They already do that. That’s what Snufkin leaving for the Winter and returning in Spring is, right? Moomintroll won’t expect him to stay for hibernation from now on, will he?

He could. That way… They could spend all of Snufkin’s heats together…

But then, when would Snufkin get to leave that would cause Moomin the least amount of distress, and a long enough time for it to be sufficient? He should take his own advice, and talk to Moomintroll about it. Communication is key to a healthy relationship.

But what if he asks too much of Snufkin? What if they have an argument? What if it ruins everything?

Joxter waves a hand in front of his face, concern in the downwards set of his mouth when Snufkin focuses back on him, a little startled. “Hey, that young Moomin is a good lad, you know,” they begin to walk back to Moominhouse, stopping at the steps up into the house. “I can tell that he cares about you a lot. A lot more than perhaps I think is wise, but I’ve always been a bit too detached. He’s not going to leave you because you need to ask him for some alone time. I think he’d let you do anything, really.”

“... Am I that obvious?”

“Only because you’re my son.” Joxter smiles, and this time it feels real, and Snufkin wishes, not for the first time, that his father had been around a lot more in his life.

* * *

 

“What did you and Joxter talk about?” Moomin asks when they wash the dishes side by side, Snufkin drying them and Pappa putting them away.  


He’s not entirely sure his father would appreciate him discussing their fathers’ relationship in front of Pappa, not when it seems like Joxter is hiding something, so he shrugs, ignoring the way the older moomin seems to start paying more attention to their conversation. “Just mumrik stuff.”

He also doesn’t think he’s ready for a conversation as important as what their expectations are just yet.

Sensing Snufkin’s unwillingness to talk about it, Moomintroll changes the subject, talking about the different styles of houses they could have. There’s a glint of excitement in his eyes whenever he passes a plate to him to dry, only stopping when Pappa has something to add about traditional moominhouses, or the best kinds of foundations. Most of it goes completely over Snufkin’s head, not understanding some of the words, and just generally not being that interested in the mechanics of it all.

As long as it looks nice and natural, and doesn’t disturb the glade too much (and has enough room for them to live comfortably) then Snufkin is happy with whatever Moomin ends up building.

“- think the house shouldn't be as big as Moominhouse, after all, I doubt we'll need so many bedrooms if we're not going to have guests very often," Moomintroll says, most of his focus on his father. Perhaps Snufkin zoned out a little too obviously. "Four bedrooms, maybe? Or is that too many, Snufkin?"

Why would they need four bedrooms? Maybe three, at most - one for them, one for their child and a guest room? Right?

He opens his mouth to say as much before something clicks in his mind, the easy domesticity of most of the day falling to pieces down around him.  


Of course, they'll need separate bedrooms. Which means four makes sense.

Snufkin closes his mouth again and nods, trying to not feel upset by the thought of not sharing a bedroom with the troll; seriously, when did he get so desperate for company? Having his own bedroom would actually be a godsend; he likes having his own space, somewhere he can be alone and enjoy it. After all, that's a big part of his being, and it's not like he  _ needs _ to be with Moomin all the time. There's really nothing to be upset over.

"Four bedrooms sounds great," he says, not meeting his friend's eyes but hoping the smile on his face hides his momentary panic. "Always best to have a spare room."

Maybe living together, they'll 'fall in love' for real (or at least, maybe Moomintroll might fall for him), and that 'spare room' will actually become a spare room. But he really mustn't get his hopes up for something that is just plain wishing on a miracle.

"Um, yes. Exactly." Moomintroll sounds a little unsure, but catches himself before it becomes obvious (Snufkin was already listening for it).

"Don't forget, you'll need rooms that aren't bedrooms too," Pappa says, a slight teasing tone in his voice that stills Moomin's hands for a moment and causes Snufkin to inhale way too sharply. "Will you need a study?"

The moomins go back to talking about more things Snufkin has no interest in, and once all the dishes are dried, he escapes into the living room, sure he's still blushing a little, even though Pappa's comment wasn't even slightly as bad as it could've been.

Snufkin just has too many thoughts. Houses, babies, Moomintroll, secrets and lies; it's all getting a little too much. He needs a break, but he knows he probably won't get one, not when everyone thinks he needs to be looked after in his current state.

He misses being able to smoke, if only to take off the edge a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay first of all apologies are in order, because im about to be really insecure
> 
> does it feel repetitive???? because i don't feel like it is but then i realise 'oh shit how many dinner announcements have they made?' or 'how many well-meaning conversations that make snufkin nervous are had?' or 'when will i come up with something original?' and ive lost track of what i was saying lol
> 
> are we going forwards? 
> 
> **anyway, im in a really bad place headspace wise, have been for maybe a month, so i might stop posting for a week, just to remember ways in which i matter outside of posting (if at all)**
> 
> **so next update could take a while, in other words.**
> 
> sorry again, i kinda feel like i do this too often.
> 
> secondly, do you all know how much i love you all? because i do, every comment email makes me feel better even though im pretty down right now, and every kudo and even hit makes me feel so happy, and it's all you guys so thank you. <3


	14. 2nd Trimester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Snufkin goes on a mini-adventure, for everyone's sake

His bag is packed the next morning, and Snufkin does his utmost best to ignore the sad slump of Moomintroll's shoulders as they part ways. It's not like he's leaving on an adventure as soon as he arrived; it's been (a very hectic) two months now. It's perfectly understandable for him to take a small trip away.

Everyone except Joxter had been concerned when he brought up his idea. But having the support of his father gave him the confidence he needed to not cave in and continue to suffer in silence.

Eventually, the others let up, knowing that once Snufkin has made up his mind, he becomes too stubborn to change. So here he is, climbing the Lonely Mountain, with a bag not as heavy as last time, mind set on enjoying nature and nothing else.

Snufkin takes a deep breath. The air on the mountain feels a lot less humid, cooler and fresher in his lungs, which he appreciates more than he thought he would. A whole Summer in the heat whilst heavily pregnant is not going to be fun, so he must make the most of the cooler air and lack of back pain whilst he can.

Adjusting the straps of his bag, he stops to lean against a tree, slightly winded. “You’re slowing daddy down, little one,” he laughs quietly, ignoring the way his heart flutters a little when he remembers Moomintroll’s paw on his stomach and his soft whispering in his bedroom. “But one day, we’ll take this journey again together, and you’ll be racing on ahead, I’m sure.”

Snufkin decides to use his break well, taking a sip of water and trying to think up a small gift he can return to Moominvalley with for Moomin. Flowers would probably wilt by the time he returns, unless he picks them on the last day, but that makes it feel like an afterthought. This gift is to show Moomin that he’s on his mind all the time (even if the aim of this journey is to just forget for a while). So something less perishable then.

His hand brushes against something cool to the touch in his bag as he looks for anything to help him think of a gift, a knife, and an idea springs to mind.

He could whittle him something! But what?

That can come later. For now, Snufkin puts everything back away and continues on his journey, feeling lighter already.

* * *

 

A few hours later, he reaches the point where the path trails off into a more forested area, narrowing his eyes a little when he remembers that one bush that set all of this off. At least he knows to avoid it this time.

A few of the plants and flowers that Moomintroll had been fascinated by when they came up here last year are still flowering despite the fact that it should be the wrong season for them, so Snufkin avoids those too, sticking to the trodden path with his bag straps tight in his fists. A soft, slightly soapy smell hits him out of nowhere when Snufkin takes another short break, and it makes him roll his eyes.

It’s the bush, of that he’s sure, even if the smell has changed significantly since the last time. Where it was once sickly sweet and herbal, it now smells of Moominhouse and something that makes him think of sleepy cuddles. It smells of Moomintroll.

A small chuckle escapes him before he has a chance to even decipher how he feels about that, before it turns into a full blown laugh, and he has to steady himself against a tree.   


Maybe Snufkin should be concerned, or at least upset, that he’s so drawn to the troll that even a plant noticed, but he’s just glad he isn’t crying. Such a good thing he’s alone, or else someone might think him slightly hysterical.

Once he’s calmed down again, Snufkin briefly considers taking some of the bush back with him, and although the thought of a recreational heat with Moomintroll in their new house once it’s built sounds like the best idea he’s had in a long time, he also doesn’t want to risk going into heat pregnant (he doesn’t have any idea if it will negatively affect the baby or him), much less now by accident. It’s not worth it, even if he wants it to be.

The smell only gets stronger the further he moves away, as though the bush is trying to lure him in more desperately, but he knows it isn’t  _ actually _ Moomin. So it doesn’t really work the way it did last time when he thought it actually was the herb he was reminded of.

If he keeps going straight, he’ll come to the summit in just under an hour, but there’s somewhere else slightly to the right that Snufkin feels might be a good place to set up camp. After all, he doesn’t want to push himself too far right now, and the wind beginning to pick up feels a lot colder up so high.

Veering off the path, he follows the vague recollections he has of stumbling through the trees, following the fluffy shape of Moomintroll just ahead, heat making his limbs wobbly and vision blurry. Snufkin thinks he made a wrong turn at some point, but then he spies the cave between some bushes that hadn’t been there last time, and he sighs in both relief and latent anticipation.

There’s a lot of memories in this place. Well, not a lot in terms of numbers, but a lot in terms of the amount of brainspace they take up.

Snufkin sets his tent up slightly closer to the mouth of the cave than the last time, not needing such a big campfire.

He’s not sure how much of a good idea it was to set up camp in a place that reminds him of everything he’s trying to forget for a while, but he feels surprisingly comfortable here, and there’s only a pleasant hum of nerves and melancholy behind the otherwise calm settling into his mind.

Maybe all he really needed was a break after all. He did return to Moominvalley a lot earlier than he usually would, and it has been pretty full on the whole two months he’s been back. Snufkin was definitely just overwhelmed, so here’s to hoping this helps.

* * *

 

Waking up in his tent, in the cave, is quite nice actually. He’s not damp like he sometimes gets in the moomins’ garden, and it wasn’t too cold either during the night. A quick breakfast of tea and some sweet strawberries gives him the energy he needs to pack up his tent and continue on his journey.   


Standing in the mouth of the cave, he lets the memories flow for a moment. How far they’ve both come from then, and yet how very similar they still are.

He thinks of Moomin’s willingness to help, of his intrigue with Snufkin, of how gentle he’d been when he took him. And he thinks of how hard it had been for him to admit how much he cared about the moomin to himself, how scared he had been of ruining everything. That Snufkin would have been so shocked to be told he’d be pregnant the next time he took the same journey they took that day. Well, he knows that because he was extremely shocked (still is sometimes).

Snufkin smiles, leaving his hand on the entrance and letting it slide away as he walks back towards the path. Even if he feels like a completely different mumrik, it’s nice to remember that nothing has changed in some ways. He’s still Snufkin, no matter what path life sends him down, no matter what changes happen.

* * *

 

The view from the top of Lonely Mountain is one of Snufkin’s favourites, never quite tiring of the endless treetops and glistening sea in the distance. The first time he stood here, with this very view, he’d been a solitary mumrik kit, angry at the world and yet in love with it all the same. Now, he doesn’t even remember why he was  _ angry _ in particular. It may have been nothing at all, after all, he was just a child, small and afraid and pretending to be sure of himself.

He’s still  _ something _ at the world, but it’s definitely mellowed as he’s grown up, understanding things better and realising that the only way to bend the world to your will was to become a tyrant. The love has never faded, and for that he’s grateful.

Snufkin places a hand on his stomach and sighs. One day, he’ll stand here, with his child sitting on his shoulders, holding their ankles carefully the same way he holds the straps of his bag, pointing out the different landmarks in the distance, explaining and showing his love of the world to them in the hopes that maybe it’ll be something they can share.

For now, he appreciates the view alone, unable to find a single fault with the world when it looks so beautiful.

* * *

 

Behind the Lonely Mountain, sits a slightly smaller village than the valley, mostly occupied by hemulens and other small creatures a little like Sniff and his family. To think he would’ve preferred to spend his heat here than in the cave with Moomintroll.

He’s endlessly glad his ‘plan’ fell through.

The inhabitants are kind enough to leave him alone, only saying ‘good morning’ and ‘how do you do?’ when he passes before quickly hurrying off to do something else. There’s a small wooded area behind some houses, a few trees felled safely, and so Snufkin takes a small chunk of scrap wood to whittle down into a gift for Moomintroll.

A hemulen gives him a disapproving look but he simply walks off, smugly satisfied by the grumbles that fade into silence as he continues on his travels.   


He can hear the beach not too far away, not the same beach as the one he visits with his friends quite often, and so he heads in the direction of the sound of waves crashing against the shore.

This beach is smaller, Snufkin notes, putting his bag down in the sand and placing his hat on top of it so he can feel the breeze in his hair. Something about the salty air of being near the sea always turns his hair slightly more red, or maybe it’s the humidity of the air, but he always finds it fascinating to see how much more like his mother’s hair it looks after he’s taken a trip to the beach. Other people probably don’t even notice. Maybe Moomin will.

A splash in the water not too far out draws his attention back to the sea, and he finds a head floating in the ocean, eyes watching him warily. Snufkin waves, not afraid, and smiles when the being waves back before diving back under the water, a red tail flipping up behind them as they swim away.

Oh! He could whittle Moomin a wooden mermaid, that would be nice. Snufkin wonders if Moomintroll has ever even met a mermaid before.

Well, even if he hasn’t, it’ll be a lovely present. He starts working on the gift, watching the tide come in slowly as the hours pass.

* * *

 

Instead of heading back up the mountain, Snufkin wanders around the beach, climbing some rocks and boulders that separate the beaches from each other. If he remembers correctly, the beach he’s currently on connects to the one near Moominvalley through a cave system that is pretty big, so he’s unlikely to get stuck.

The wooden mermaid sits in his pocket, not perfect but Snufkin is proud of it regardless. He knows Moomintroll will love it, the thought of the smile on his face when he gives it to him putting a spring in his step.

He feels so connected to nature with sand in his boots and salt on his lips, hair windswept and hat clutched tightly in his hand, it’s hard to feel any of the concern that he’s been stewing in back home.

* * *

The moon rises in the sky as he exits the cave system, shaking off a few cobwebs and checking he didn’t drop anything, his harmonica and the mermaid still in his pockets. The stars twinkle above him in a way that’s always captivated him, the brightest ones reflected on the calm ocean below.

Deciding to set up camp on the beach, Snufkin wanders up onto the boulders that sit too high for the sea to reach when the tide comes in, finding the holes in the rock from the last time he camped here to secure his tent down. Here is the most relaxing place he’s ever camped.

With the sound of the waves to send him off to sleep, and the closeness to it, Snufkin adores it here. If he focuses, sometimes he can hear the fish that swim up to the surface splashing about, and not many people come here in the nighttime, so it’s almost guaranteed that he’ll be left alone too.

He’ll be home again in the morning. Hopefully this was long enough away for him to feel better about staying in the valley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> both snufkin and i needed a break lmao. what good timing
> 
> i...said i was taking a break, and i did, but i just finished writing chapter 17 and plotted out the rest of the story so i guess thats where im at
> 
> also uh, did snufkin go completely stir crazy in just 2 months? yeah. dare i say mood? cause that's how long ive been posting these fics for. two months. cray cray. so i guess it makes sense i needed a break too
> 
> also thank you all for your lovely comments once again! yall never cease to make me genuinely sob (in a good way), which is why i havent replied again but i will soon
> 
> love you all! chap 15 soon!


	15. 2nd Trimester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Snufkin returns, and a cottage is designed

Snufkin takes a slow amble back to Moominhouse the next day, after waking up late to the sound of seagulls fighting over a crab further down the beach. He breaks up the fight, shooing the birds away from the crab with a stern disapproval that always seems to work on birds, no matter how feisty.

He reaches the front door just as Moomin exits, and they stare at each other in both shock and complete nonchalance before the trolls hugs him tightly, picking him up and spinning him around before putting him down again, sheepishly apologising.   


Snufkin laughs, hugging him in return this time, pleasantly but internally surprised by how welcome the touch is. He’s so warm.

“Did you go to the sea?” Moomintroll asks, snout nudging against the hair that peeks out from under his hat. “You smell salty.”

His fingers bury into the fur of his neck as he nods, keeping them connected as they seperate mostly. “I did. I made you something…” He shrugs when Moomin asks what he made, smile small and secretive. “But you can’t have it yet.”

“Why not?” The troll pouts, but it’s hard to take him seriously when his paws unloop from Snufkin’s back to rest on his bump.

“Because I said so. We missed you.”

Moomin lights up instantly, and Snufkin chuckles to himself, stepping back so there’s a gap between them. His friend takes that as an opportunity to pull him into the house, and up the stairs into Moominpappa’s study, sitting him at the desk (after taking his bag and putting it on the floor) and leaning over him. “Okay, I want to hear all about your adventure.”

Scattered across the table are blueprints and architectural drawings, pictures of cottages covered in ivy and flowers, some of them big and some small. He bends his neck back a little to look up at Moomintroll, hovering near his shoulder. “What’s all of this?”

The troll looks a little embarrassed, putting his paw on the desk and swiping some of the paper away before Snufkin stops him. “... I was bored without you around so I started thinking about the house…”

A slight blush turns his ears pink, and Snufkin finds he quite likes it, even if he does feel bad for making Moomin self-conscious. “Can you show me then?” He smiles, placating, hoping it looks reassuring and not judging, and from the way he perks up again, it must’ve worked.

“Adventure first, house later.” Moomin says, clearing a space on the desk before sitting on it.

Snufkin tells Moomin about the past couple of days, leaving out the cave and the bush (because he knows that will start a conversation he isn’t ready to have yet). Saying it out loud makes it seem a lot less interesting and fun than it actually was, maybe even a little lackluster, especially compared to other journeys he has been on during the time he normally would spend in the valley.

“But you had a good time, right? And a chance to just be alone with your thoughts, which is what you wanted, so I’d say it was a success either way.” Moomintroll reasons when Snufkin begins to doubt himself. He isn’t wrong, he has to admit, and it’s to be expected that it wouldn’t be as dangerous or exciting as usual; he has to keep the baby safe, after all.

Nodding, he picks the moomin’s paw up from the desk and steals a picture out from under it, ignoring the way he complains (“I thought you were going to hold my hand!” accompanied by a pout) to study the way the walls seem to curve a little, no sharp edges, delightfully imperfect. “This is nice.”

“I liked that one too, but Pappa said it’s ‘not moomin enough’.”

Frowning, Snufkin shrugs. “Well, I’m not a moomin. And we have no idea what the baby is,  _ and  _ who's to say it isn’t ‘moomin enough’? Is it just because he doesn’t like it? Maybe what makes it moomin enough is if a moomin built it.”

Moomin sighs resolutely, passing Snufkin a different picture of a house an awful lot like Moominhouse. “Pappa thinks we should build one like this.”

“Well I don’t want one like that.” Snufkin can tell it isn’t what Moomintroll wants, if the lack of enthusiasm in his voice says anything. He isn’t that worried about Moominpappa thinking he’s too fussy about the house; firstly, he’d be wrong, and secondly, it’s not the older moomin’s house so Snufkin is willing to say anything to make sure he doesn’t sway Moomin into something he doesn’t want. It’s their house after all, not Pappa’s.

The small grin on the other’s face tells him he said the right thing, and Snufkin wonders if that was what he showed it to him for in the first place. Oh well. He would rather that their house wouldn't look like Moomin’s parents’ anyway.

“Joxter managed to tell Pappa to back off for a while,” Moomin explains, brows knitting together again. “But he’s… How do I say… A little strange?”

Snufkin chuckles, nodding in agreement. “What did he do?”

“He won’t stop watching me? Is that a mumrik thing? You do it too.”

What? “What?” He does  _ what _ ?

Moomintroll laughs quietly, pointing to the tree directly opposite the window across the river, and sure enough, there’s his father. Joxter waves lazily, a smirk on his face, and Snufkin huffs, closing the shutters. “I don’t do that.”

“Well, not quite like that, but sometimes, if I’m quick enough, I’ll catch you staring at me. Sometimes you look away straight away but sometimes it takes you a while to realise. You get this glassed over look in your eyes.”

He feels the blush crawling up his neck and onto his cheeks before he even lets the words sink in. Oh god, he really has been that obvious. How on earth has Moomin not realised why his eyes glass over, or why he stares? Frustrated and yet relieved, Snufkin is torn between shaking him and telling him that it’s because he can’t take his eyes off of him, and leaning back in the chair to let his obliviousness wash over him.

Choosing the latter, he pretends to be completely composed. “Um…” It doesn’t work. Oh no. Oh no no no.

“Don’t look so panicked, I’m irresistible right?” Moomintroll laughs, standing to turn the light on in the room. “He’s probably just making sure I’m good enough for you.”

“He’s already decided that, you know,” Snufkin says before he gives himself the chance to chicken out from saying it, waving away the panic, glad for the subject change. “He thinks you care about me too much, which is apparently a good thing.”

“Does that mean I won’t get the ‘If you hurt my son, I’ll skin you alive’ talk then?”

Snufkin shrugs, a smirk tugging his lips upwards slightly. “Nah, you’ll still get that talk.”

In all honesty, he’s surprised he hasn’t gotten that talk from Moomin’s parents, but then again, they’ve known Snufkin for so long now that it’s probably not necessary. Besides, they surely know how much it hurts Snufkin to upset their son by now (he doesn’t want to let himself think of that one time he was a month late during Spring, it was hell for him too. His heat had come late that year, and when he returned, he promised to never be that late again (even though he knew he couldn’t guarantee anything) and vowed to do whatever Moomintroll wanted the rest of the year. They’d both cried way too much that day).

“Oh well. I have no plans to hurt you, so I guess I have nothing to be worried about.”

They smile at each other, and for a moment, Snufkin actually, completely, entertains the thought of telling him. It wouldn’t be so hard to say ‘I love you’, would it?

“I think thatched roofing is probably a bad idea, because we need a fireplace,” Moomintroll turns his attention back to the house designing, and the moment shatters. Probably for the best. “What about green shingles?”

* * *

 

They stay in the study until the sun begins to set, discussing different ideas the troll had for layout and overall look. Some of the ideas Snufkin really doesn’t like, like having a tall but thin house (too much like Moominhouse), or it being wide and brightly coloured (not natural enough). He does like the thought of it being green though, because the ivy won’t just magically grow as soon as the house is built (but if ivy doesn’t grow on the walls he’d be quite upset).

“Three bedrooms upstairs, one downstairs, the large bathroom upstairs, the guest bathroom downstairs, kitchen and dining room in the same room, walk into the living room from the porch?” Moomin repeats, comparing two of the layout plans for Snufkin to decide which one he likes more. “Or, all the bedrooms upstairs, bigger bathroom downstairs, plus a study/playroom and then the kitchen and dining room, walk into the living room.”

Snufkin takes a moment to think, comparing the way the layouts would work in a day to day manner. “... I don’t want to have to go downstairs every time I need the bathroom.” It’s not going to be long before his bladder control decreases exponentially; if his dates are correct, then he’s not far from his third trimester. Comfort first, right?

And then maybe… If things go well, maybe it’ll be a good thing to make the house easier for a pregnant Snufkin again in the future…

He’s not even had this baby yet and he’s already thinking about another one. Unbelievable. He doesn’t even know if having children is him yet. Being pregnant is just one confusing mess after another.

All the more reason to have a bathroom on each level.

“That’s fair, especially if your morning sickness kicks back up again,” Moomin hums, screwing the second plan up into a ball and throwing it in the general direction of the wastepaper basket in the corner of the room. It misses, but Snufkin doesn’t mention it. “Oh, do you think it’ll be done before our baby is born?”

Maybe he’s tired, or maybe he’s just distracted, but Snufkin’s mind circles on ‘our baby’ like no other words matter. Obviously he knows the baby is theirs. But to hear it said so casually makes him a little emotional. “... Hopefully.” His voice sticks halfway through the word, making it sound disjointed and he hopes Moomin doesn’t notice.

“Hm. If we start working on it next week, maybe it’ll be done by mid-Summer at the latest, but I think we can build it quicker than that,” Moomintroll continues, not really acknowledging Snufkin as he wanders around him to the other side of the desk. He takes a pencil and sketches in some directions and words that Snufkin can’t make out before sighing contently and holding up the plan. “I think we have a house.”

Snufkin nods, agreeing. Not so big that it detracts from the glade, not so small that it doesn’t have everything they need, and not so tall that it towers over the treetops. It seems perfect, and Snufkin feels so much more excited about it than he thought he would.

“A home, for you and me and the baby,” Moomintroll says, excitement of his own bleeding out of his words. “It’s going to be amazing.”

“I hope so,” he admits, before there's movement in his stomach, like something reaching out inside of him, and he gasps, eyes wide as Moomin startles. "They... I felt them kick!"

The panic in the other's blue eyes turns into excitement, giddy and infectious, a grin that mirrors Moomintroll’s stretching on Snufkin's face without his permission. "Can I feel?"

He nods, and with Moomintroll's paws on his stomach, their child kicks again, softly, barely noticeably, but they meet eyes and begin to laugh, filled with joy and love for the small creature inside Snufkin. It may be a little late along the line for the first identifiable kick, but Snufkin is just glad it happened when they’re in the same room, sharing the moment together, happy and excited and a family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....i will reply to comments soon....pls forgive me......ily.......


	16. 2nd Trimester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein building starts, and Moomin has 'lunch'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, here be smut!
> 
> I hope you enjoy because i loved writing this chapter
> 
> (updated tags 26.7.19)

There’s a general sense of excitement and anticipation in Moominhouse for the next few days as discussions are had about actually building. Joxter stays with them with an ‘indeterminate length of stay’ attitude, or as Snufkin likes to think of it, an ‘I do what I want’ attitude. He’s thankful for the company, because Moomin seems completely focused on the house, and Little My and Snorkmaiden refuse to be around them when they’re so distracted (or more likely they’re just too busy being distracted by each other).

His father has lots of interesting stories to tell, and Snufkin both loves and hates how easily they get on. He sort of wishes it would have taken longer for him to warm up to Joxter, but he’s a good dad, even if he’s a bad parent. Although the inappropriate jokes could stop.

The wooden mermaid in his tent sits unassuming, waiting for him to give it to Moomintroll. He just hasn’t found the right time yet, either too distracted himself by other things, or unable to get Moomin’s attention for long enough.

Like now.

Snufkin is happily lounging in a flower patch in the glade, watching the way Moomintroll rushes around, directing some of the people who offered to help to do certain things, like lay foundation cement and avoid bushes and things. It’s a nice sight, to watch the moomin take an authoritative role (maybe Snufkin likes the thought of him bossing people around a little too much), he appreciates the view a lot.

But he goes mostly ignored. He had offered to help, desperate to do something to occupy his mind, but he’d been told to just chill, just relax, take the weight off of his feet (he almost started an argument at that, but held back).

“Oh well,” he hums softly, not letting his helplessness rile him up again. “If your pappa wants to do it all himself then I suppose we have no choice, kit.” Snufkin is quite enjoying just relaxing anyway. It gives him both time to think and a chance to zone out. Besides, house building isn’t Snufkin’s forte. And this way, he gets to watch Moomintroll haul around heavy wooden logs with ease.

He could totally hold Snufkin up and wreck him without even having to put him down. He imagines that strength, holding his wrists down into the mattress of  _ their _ bed, leaving him no choice but to submit and take it (consensually of course). Snufkin blushes at that thought in particular, like one of those ridiculous ‘bodice-ripper’ romance stories Snorkmaiden pretends she doesn’t read.

Hopefully, his constant lustful thinking will die down once he’s no longer pregnant; even more hopefully, he won’t crave Moomintroll’s touch the way he does now.

Because it’s only been a week or two since the door incident, and already Snufkin feels teased and denied and  _ desperate _ for something and it’s driving him up the wall, so to speak. He can’t live like this forever, itching for any gentle brush of fur against skin, heating up with every too-long stare, aching for his best friend to just slide back inside of him. It’s embarrassing, and flustering, and just messy and he  _ doesn’t  _ like it (but he  _ does _ , which is the main problem).

His mind must get stuck on this train of thought for much too long, because everyone leaves the glade for lunch, leaving Snufkin alone with the subject of his desires still moving heavy objects around like it’s nothing, and…

Oh, there's no way he needs to be moving those heavy bags of cement mixture just yet. Tease.

“Where is everyone?” Snufkin asks, knowing exactly where they’ve gone (back to Moominhouse, like they did yesterday), but he couldn’t come up with anything witty.

Moomintroll turns and puts a hand on his hip, bag over his shoulder. “They’ve gone back to have lunch with Mamma. She made stew today.”

“Why haven’t we gone with them?”

There’s a light chuckle from the troll as he drops the bag down without any care for how it lands (Snufkin  _ knew _ he didn’t actually need to carry it), and he joins Snufkin on the grass. “I thought we could spend some time together, just for a little while. It’s been too long since it was just us. Unless you’re hungry?”

There’s another meaning to his words, he’s sure, but Snufkin quite enjoys the light-hearted teasing, so he doesn’t acknowledge it. “No, you’re right, I haven’t had a chance to speak to you alone in ages.”

‘Ages’ means a week, at most. They both know this. The atmosphere feels thick with something lighter than tension but heavier than a few joking remarks, so when Moomintroll holds Snufkin’s face between his paws and nuzzles their noses together, the mumrik celebrates internally.

His fur feels slightly hot, likely from being in the sun, and it makes Snufkin want to sneeze, but it’s very sweet, and so he isn’t going to complain. His hands land somewhere behind him in the grass, to hold him up, especially needed when the kiss moves to their mouths.

Snufkin wonders if it’s possible to become addicted to kissing the way people get addicted to booze and smoking. Because there’s definitely something intoxicating about being kissed by and kissing Moomintroll, and it feels kind of dangerous to just slip into it. But he does, parting his lips when the troll’s tongue slides along the seam, dipping in just slightly. He’s so glad the troll asked him to show him how to kiss like this, because it’s so heavenly.

Their tongues slide against each other, wet and warm, not nearly as insistent or dirty as last time. Snufkin might even dare to say it feels sweet, in the same way that the moomin’s mouth tastes, sweet and comforting and heady. His head spins a little when their tongues twirl together, movement natural and not uncomfortable in the slightest, like this is second-nature for them; maybe it is. Maybe their mouths were made with the sole purpose of kissing like this, of swallowing each others’ soft sounds of delight and of tasting only each other.

Maybe Snufkin is losing his mind.

Moomin’s paws slide away from his face as they pull apart, lips shiny and wet with saliva, eyes glassy and far away when they smile at each other, slow, like they have all the time in the world (even though they probably only have an hour and a half at most). “I wanna try something…”

Snufkin nods a little, not really sure what he’s signing himself up for but trusting his friend all the same. There’s an excitement in every one of Moomintroll’s movements, and it piques Snufkin’s interest; will it be better than getting fingered against a door? Because that was pretty good.

The troll urges him to lie back gently, his head cushioned by the grass and he slides his hat off and to the side so it doesn’t get crumpled. His trousers are pulled off slowly, delicately, the slide of the fabric against his legs making him shudder slightly.

“Tell me if you don’t like it.” Moomintroll says, paws on Snufkin’s knees gently rubbing soothingly. It’s so unbearably soft, Snufkin might cry, but that’s just his hormones acting up.

He nods in understanding, parting his legs slightly as Moomin leans in close. He plants a few kisses on his inner thighs, both with his lips and as a gentle nuzzle of his snout, the touches featherlight and yet all-encompassing all the same. Each touch feels like fire on the sensitive skin, and it takes all Snufkin has to not push his legs back together, the sensation causing his muscles to tighten and loosen of their own accord.

But if he thought that was a lot already, the slow drag of Moomintroll’s tongue up the inside of his right thigh, wet and slightly rough, sends him into a frenzy. The feeling is indescribable, a rush of heat spreading from wherever his tongue lands outwards, settling deep in his gut as usual. His hand immediately flies to his mouth, just in case he makes any sounds too loud. After all, they are in an open, public space that anyone could just walk into.

Moomin chuckles quietly, eyes watching him as his tongue leaves his skin only to be replaced by his lips again. He sucks a hickey onto his thigh, careful about making it not too big, licking the bruise after to soothe it, and Snufkin’s other hand, the one still in the grass, tightens around some of the blades, accidentally ripping them from the ground. His thighs are  _ so _ sensitive, he’s not sure how long he'll be able to last like this.

Pleased with the bruise, Moomintroll moves back so he can help Snufkin out of his underwear, placing them on the pile with his trousers, before settling back in closer. He presses kisses along the join of his thighs and hips, sucking another bruise or two into the skin, ears twitching with every hitched breath Snufkin takes.

It doesn’t take long for Snufkin to figure out what, exactly, it is that Moomin had planned to do, especially when his snout rests against the swell of his stomach before his lips press lightly against his crotch. The touch is barely there, teasing and minute, and yet it still draws a gasp from Snufkin, pleasantly surprised. Immediately, his mind is flooded with scenarios where Moomintroll slips his tongue inside of him, eating him out slowly and deeply and lovingly, or maybe he’d lick him to completion, only teasingly letting his tongue slide near his hole before refusing to enter him. Or maybe both.

The moomin continues pressing kisses all over his skin, not a single suggestion of tongue, but that’s okay for now, each kiss like a teasing jolt of pleasure that warms Snufkin’s nerves and turns his muscles into jelly.

He feels himself beginning to steadily leak slick, and he imagines Moomintroll’s muzzle glistening with his wetness, fur matted with it, and it just makes him groan softly. It’s too much.

Moomin’s paws carefully push Snufkin’s thighs apart, hold gentle but strong. And then he presses his tongue flat against his core, and Snufkin almost blanks out. It’s so hot, and wet, and the slightly rough texture feels  _ amazing _ against his super sensitive skin, nerves firing off with almost too much enthusiasm already.

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, torn between covering his face, burying into the fur on Moomin’s head, or tearing up the grass more. Snufkin settles on hiding his face, one hand over his mouth, the other flung over his eyes as if not being able to see what Moomintroll is doing makes it any easier to deal with. It doesn’t, only intensifying the feeling of his tongue slowly trailing upwards, unable to tell what he’s doing until he’s doing it.

He wonders how much longer they have until everyone comes back from lunch, whether anyone would come back early, accidentally stumbling into the scene. The thought of getting caught only serves to make Snufkin shudder, gasping desperately when Moomin’s tongue slides against the bundle of nerves above his hole slowly, putting no pressure into the lick. At this rate, he’s going to come undone in a few minutes at most.

Snufkin’s legs twitch a little, instinctively trying to close around Moomin’s head to keep him there, but the paws on his thighs force him to stay spread open wide, not even letting him move slightly. He feels ruined already, the reminder of Moomin’s strength only serving to arouse him even more, if that is even possible.

He starts trembling after what feels like hours of being teased, relentlessly toyed with, soaking wet and aching for  _ more _ , soft breathy moans falling from his lips around his hand without his permission. Snufkin can’t even focus his mind on anything, not how good it feels, not how someone might catch them, not how embarrassed he feels, all he can do is lay there and take it, slowly coaxed to the edge time and time again, only to be pulled away when Moomin stops.

Desperate for release, Snufkin moves his hand away from his mouth and lets it fall into the grass, moaning louder now the sounds aren’t muffled, begging quietly for Moomin to let him cum.

The troll doesn’t even acknowledge his begging, trailing his tongue up and down along the length of Snufkin’s core, teasingly dipping the tip inside of him before swirling around his bundle of nerves again. A smug chuckle reaches Snufkin’s ears after he cries out a little too loudly, making him bristle, especially when it only turns him on more.

Trying to hide how close he is, so maybe Moomin will work harder to ‘bring him to the edge’ even though he’s already there, Snufkin turns his head to the side, taking deep breaths to try and control the pleasure flooding through him. Maybe then he can decide when he cums.

But it doesn’t seem to work, or maybe it does, because Moomintroll slides his tongue inside of him all at once, his upper lip pressing against Snufkin’s pleasure zone, and there’s no way he’d be able to hold back from the orgasm that rushes through him with way too much preamble and yet still not enough warning.

His mouth falls open on a silent cry, hands clenched tightly into fists as he rides out the waves of pleasure. Moomin doesn’t stop licking him from the inside, drawing out every last ounce of hedonistic joy wracking Snufkin’s body, limbs trembling and lungs almost failing.

Eventually he becomes too oversensitive, and Moomintroll pulls his tongue out slowly, before moving Snufkin’s arm away from his eyes with a self-assured smirk on his face. “You taste amazing, babe.” And then he has the audacity to lick his lips, slow and sensual, before licking up some of the juices spilling out of Snufkin’s hole and turning the mumrik beet red.

“Oh god, Moomintroll…” Snufkin moans (although it sounds a lot breathier and less annoyed than he wanted it to), grabbing his hat and covering his face so he doesn’t have to watch him taste him.

He wonders vaguely how long they have left before everyone returns, because he fully intends to do something for Moomintroll now, but when he peeks out from under his hat at the other, he finds him already unsheathed and rolls his eyes fondly.

“Think you can cum twice in a row?” Moomin asks softly, none of that smugness left in his voice, and Snufkin knows he could say no if he wanted to, and the moomin wouldn’t be offended in the slightest. But to be honest, he kind of wants to try (he’s only ever had successive orgasms on his heat before), and Snufkin hasn’t felt him inside since he rode him.

“Think you can  _ make _ me cum twice in a row?” And how pleased he is that he didn’t stutter his words, teasing and (hopefully) seductively bratty. If the slightly affronted but very turned on look on the other’s face tells him anything, it’s that his taunting worked.

There’s a part of Snufkin (a part he doesn’t particularly like) that hopes in spite of himself that lunch is over, just so someone might see them having sex, but he’s really not sure if the humiliation would make him more desperate or just mortified.

Moomintroll nudges Snufkin’s legs apart again, bringing them around him, the tip of his cock sliding into place almost too easily, and he takes a deep breath, expecting it to hurt.

The first slide does hurt a little, but only because he can’t stop clenching tightly, waves of pleasure still working their way through him (although not nearly as strongly as just now). It feels a lot more overwhelming to have Moomin inside of him when he’s already shaking from an orgasm, and he feels so much bigger now that his nerves are on high alert. And as much as it hurts, it feels  _ good _ .

Looking up at Moomintroll, framed by the blue sky and the tree tops, Snufkin thinks he’s never looked more stunning. Sure, he looks beautiful in the light of a campfire, and yes, the stars don’t even compare to him when they stargaze, but the sky is the same colour as his eyes, and he’s so fluffy and white, just like a cloud. Really, he’s so very lucky to be able to gaze upon such a wonderful, soft creature.

Snufkin loops his ankles together behind Moomin’s back, preventing him from moving too far back, enjoying the feeling of his flared head pressing against his walls where it feels the best for a moment. Plus, if he moves too soon, it’ll be over for Snufkin way too soon, and he’s not sure a third orgasm in a row is a good idea. Not when he’ll have to walk back home at least. He knows his legs would be much too jelly-like for that.

Moomin’s paws tighten on his thighs slightly as he begins to pull out, torturously slow, making every move seem calculated and measured to make Snufkin want to beg for more, but he won’t. He won’t, because he knows Moomintroll needs this as much as he does, and it won’t take long for him to give up on the teasing. Or at least he hopes so anyway.

Before too long, Snufkin is proved right when his thrusts pick up a small amount of speed, still deep and torturous but at least there’s something to feel. He doesn’t really know what to do other than lay there, but his hands seem to subconsciously fist into his hair, and that seems like a good enough place for them to go.

The troll hisses slightly when Snufkin tightens around him after a particularly delicious drag, teeth gritted together. He wonders distantly what it feels like for him, whether it’s just as earth-shakingly, devastatingly good as it is for Snufkin. He could always ask, but what would be the point? If he says yes then that would  _ definitely _ ruin his slowly dwindling sense of rationality enough for him to just blurt out his feelings. And if he were to say no, then… Well it’s not even worth entertaining that thought. He’s sure it feels nice for the moomin too, otherwise why would he keep doing it with him?

A short, sharp thrust yanks him out of his head with a wide-eyed cry, Moomin’s knot pushing in and then out ruthlessly before the slow rhythm returns. Snufkin is positive that he looks wrecked; he certainly sounds it, and by the look Moomintroll has on his face (slightly smug again, but also fascinated), he must look a mess. “Are you- are you zoning out?”

He opens his mouth to reply (with something witty), but the troll rolls his hips forward, the tip of his cock nudging against that area that makes him see stars. There’s a chuckle in response to Snufkin’s choked off moan, and if his muscles would just  _ stop _ tensing and relaxing randomly he’d give Moomin a piece of his mind. But he just  _ can’t _ .

“There you are,” he hums placidly, pushing into him in a way that keeps the head rubbing against that spot with each thrust, a look on his face that makes the mumrik flustered. Snufkin covers his eyes with the palms of his hands, fingers still tugging on his hair, trying to get a grasp of himself before he completely loses it. “You th-think too much.”

How he’d love to disagree, but he’s not wrong. But it’s hard to let go and just not think, no matter how much the pleasure tries to drag him down into mind-numbing ecstasy.

His thighs ache with the effort of keeping them up, and his entrance feels raw and electrified with every nudge of his knot pressing against him. Snufkin can feel his second orgasm nearing, and he hopes Moomintroll isn’t too far away either because he won’t be able to cope with being that over-stimulated. “D-don’t… Knot me.” That would be a hard thing to explain when everyone returns.

Moomin nods, slowing down to slide his paws under Snufkin’s hips and hold them up as he pushes into him. The new angle allows him deeper without his knot tying them together, and now he’s being supported instead of having to keep himself in the right position, everything feels so much  _ more _ .

For a long moment, Snufkin forgets where they are,  _ who _ they are, lost in the sensations and the heat and the slick, slow slide of Moomintroll inside of him. The build up feels slow, like warm golden syrup, starting from where they’re joined and spreading out to his extremities, toes curling and fingers tensing in his hair.  


His orgasm doesn’t hit him suddenly, instead, it feels like a tidal wave, starting off small and insignificant before cresting naturally, pushing Snufkin’s mind under the water and filling his lungs, warm and supported and dangerously content.

His body, on the other hand, is anything but calm, shaking and wracked with each wave of pleasure, clenching and unclenching around Moomin relentlessly, aching and yet needing more.

Moomintroll follows behind almost immediately, thrusts shallow as he fills Snufkin’s passage with his cum. He barely feels it, but he can hear how good it feels for him in the way he moans out Snufkin’s name, breathy and deep and soft all the same.

Snufkin feels like he’s floating in a pool of honey, weightless and satisfied.

Moomin helps him clean up once they’ve calmed down, using some napkins and some water from a canteen that they brought with them this morning, also cleaning his snout (which makes Snufkin blush a whole lot with embarrassment).

“Back to it then, don’t want everyone thinking I was slacking off.” Moomin announces as he watches Snufkin get dressed, smiling brightly, eyes still clouded over with the afterglow. He looks much too happy with himself.

Oh well, he deserves it.

He can’t make eye contact with anyone else when they come back from their lunch break, hoping his voice doesn’t wobble when he thanks Moominpappa for bringing him some of the stew back in a sealed bowl, still warm somehow.

In all the excitement, he’d forgotten to be hungry, but now he’s tired and starving because of their activities, so he’s very grateful for being brought some food. It tastes divine, as most of Moominmamma’s food does, and he devours it in a matter of minutes.

Snufkin spends the rest of the day in somewhat of a daze, watching Moomin work with an appreciative gaze that he isn’t even trying to hide (because what’s the point, everyone ‘knows’ now), imagining a future in that house with little… Moomin-mumrik kids running around, enjoying the easy calm afterglow whilst he has it.

He’s content, for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooooof
> 
> um ive never written eating out before so like... i hope it made sense lol
> 
> i feel like i was gonna say something else but ive forgotten so thats....fun
> 
> i honestly havent planned any more smut chapters either so like... this could be the last smutty chapter of this fic? wild lmao (honestly tho? big doubt. i'll probs slip some in halfway through a chapter here or there, like come on. its me, i cant not add some smut here or there)
> 
> also i finally replied to comments so congrats @ me
> 
> (IM AN IDIOT LMAO thanks for pointing out id labelled the chapter 3rd trimester i hadnt meant to i got carried away im sorry lmao pls accept the edit hfdjjndfjndvf)


	17. 2nd Trimester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Snufkin gets new clothes, Snorkmaiden and Little My help with aesthetic choices, and author decides to upset Snufkin even more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .... i guess maybe you could class what snufkin goes through a mild anxiety attack, so just a quick warning for that

The next morning, Mymble and Mamma have gifts for Snufkin, in the form of new clothes (just as he needed them as well). They look exactly like his current clothes, just a little looser around his waist, and although he expected them to feel brand new and stiff, when he tries them on he’s shocked to find that the material feels soft and slightly worn. Not quite as much as his ordinary clothes, but they definitely don’t feel uncomfortable in the way he'd thought they would.

Mymble explains, when he asks, that she washed them several times, even letting her children play with the clothing for a little while before washing them a few more times just to make sure they didn’t seem new. Snufkin is surprised she even remembered how much he hates the feeling of new clothes, but he appreciates it a lot, even initiating a short hug with both her and Moominmamma as a sign of his gratitude.

It certainly isn’t so bad having new clothes after all, and he does feel a lot more comfortable in an outfit that doesn’t cling around his stomach in a way that reveals way too much of his figure. The fabric is loose and baggy, and will probably still have plenty of room even when he’s close to being due.

Moomin makes a comment about him looking much more comfortable when they walk over to the glade, smiling when Snufkin takes a hold of his paw to steady himself after nearly tripping over a tree root (he’s not nearly as nimble on his feet now he’s carrying a whole person with him all the time, and he’s just glad Moomintroll doesn’t make fun of him for suddenly being a lot more clumsy). Snufkin ends up being too scared (and enjoying it too much) to let go of his paw, but he can tell his face is much too pink for his own good.

It’s so frustrating! They’ve done much more intimate things than  _ holding hands _ for goodness sake, so why is holding his hand making Snufkin blush like a virgin? Embarrassing, but at least it makes their story more believable, right?

The day is uneventful besides the hand holding. No more being eaten out in the flowers today. Snufkin is both overly glad (he needs a break) and a little disappointed, which gives him an idea for what the next day should entail. He needs some distance, he decides, and what better way to get some distance than to completely avoid his (not)boyfriend by asking his sister and her best friend to help with decoration choices?

If he can deal with the awkward atmosphere that is.

* * *

 

“Wait, you want  _ my _ help?”

“No, I want Snorkmaiden’s help. I don’t trust you. But you both seem to be a package deal right now so I suppose I have to ask you too.”

“That’s what I thought.” Little My grins, all teeth as usual, as they walk over to Snorkmaiden’s house. Moomintroll had been all too enthusiastic for Snufkin to take over on most of the interior decorating, and he wonders if it’s because he’s worried the mumrik has been getting bored just watching everyone else build the house.

To be honest, he probably would’ve started getting bored before too long. Besides, Joxter had promised to ‘help’ lay bricks today, and Snufkin knows exactly how that’s going to go, so to not be around for that is all the more reason to be away from the building site (he can almost perfectly envision his father knocking the bricks out of alignment just to frustrate Pappa, and he cringes at the thought of the arguments they’d have).

Snorkmaiden’s house is beautifully decorated. Even the front door is adorned with flowers and brightly painted so as to reflect the early Summer season. Little My knocks once, twice, then a third time before hopping onto the fence of the porch as they wait for her to answer the door.

“Do you know what you’re getting yourself into?” Little My hums conspiratorially, plucking a small sprig of lavender from one of the bunches hanging from the porch roof. “Snorkmaiden isn’t going to let you have full control.”

“That’s preferable,” he answers, not letting her rile him up. To be honest, as long as it looks livable, Snufkin doesn’t care how the house looks from the inside. Well, unless it looks overdone. “As long as I make final decisions.”

The door opens, and Snorkmaiden grins at them both. “Oh hey guys, I just made some tea, do you want some?”

After some tea and biscuits and light conversation, Snorkmaiden asks what Snufkin is doing coming over. “I thought you’d be with Moomintroll.”

“I… Got bored of watching everyone build and not being allowed to help,” he explains, trying not to think of how  _ not  _ bored he was the other day. “And there are other things to be sorted out, like decorating. I didn’t know if you’d like to help?”

She seems to think for a moment, fiddling with the lavender Little My had slid into her hair when she was plating out the biscuits. “I’d love to, but I’m not sure our styles are similar at all.”

He looks around her house, at all the pinks and lacy fabrics, and flowers and has to agree with her. “Well no, but you know what Moomintroll likes, and I don’t mind it not being a hundred percent my aesthetic. Any help would be great, I have no idea where to start.”

“Oh go on then,” she agrees, standing up and telling them both to stay there as she wanders up the stairs. “Won’t be a minute!”

“She’s gone to get her book of house inspiration,” Little My explains when Snufkin asks what she thinks the snork is doing. “She showed it to me the other day when I jokingly told her I should move in with her after your little house announcement. It’s really something.” The plain expression on her face makes Snufkin feel a little worried about what he’s gotten himself in for now, and the size of the scrapbook in Snorkmaiden’s arms as she comes back down from the study doubles that panic.

“Okay, when Moomintroll and I were still together, we made some moodboards for what we would’ve liked our house to look like,” Snorkmaiden says, and there’s a slight hitch in her voice when she says ‘together’ which makes Snufkin cringe. Little My looks between them both with a somewhat concerned expression, but Snorkmaiden isn’t looking up from the book and Snufkin doesn’t want to bring it back up when they’ve already spoken about it. “His tastes might have changed since then, but it’s a better starting point than just blindly guessing. I think you’ll be able to tell which parts are mine and which are his.”

The page she shows him is covered in very opposing designs, pink contrasting with more natural hues, light and bright white-washed wood compared to darker, more homely looking wood, gingham curtains and cushions against large, comfortable furniture.

“If I’d paid more attention back then, I think I would’ve realised sooner who he was actually thinking of living with when we made this page,” she admits after a much too long pause as they all stare at the greens, browns and wood, all reminiscent of the outdoors. Snufkin wonders if they’re all thinking the same thing. “But that’s in the past now!” Her voice sounds way too fakely upbeat, but Little My shakes her head when Snufkin opens his mouth to apologise or try to explain something he doesn’t even understand himself.

They pore over the pages for what feels like hours after Snufkin draws up the level plans roughly on a piece of scrap paper, starting with the kitchen.

There are so many different things about decorating a house that Snufkin had  _ no  _ idea were so necessary, things like what kind of tiles to use in the kitchen and bathrooms, how to tie in the colour schemes throughout the house to make it feel cognisant, how to  _ place _ the furniture to make sure the house flows. He’s both overly glad he asked for help and annoyed that he did, otherwise he’s sure it would have been less work.

“I assume things like the kitchen counters and dining table and chairs will be sorted out by Moomin and co,” Snorkmaiden theorises as they look over the different kinds of paint they might need. “So we probably shouldn’t worry about furniture just yet. If we can sort out paint and an overall aesthetic you’d like then I’d consider today a success!”

“Yeah, a success,” Little My raises an eyebrow at Snufkin as he stands, back aching. “You’re huge.”

“My!”

Snufkin looks down at himself and frowns. He doesn’t look that big, does he?

“I didn’t pay attention before but I swear mother only got that big if she was having a larger litter than just one,” she says, ignoring Snorkmaiden’s admonishment. “Maybe you’re having twins.”

Snorkmaiden turns and looks as well, and Snufkin feels the urge to wrap his arms around his stomach and hide forever, self-conscious. “... Actually you’re right. I don’t think Moomin babies are that big either. Ooh maybe you’ll have one of each!”

He might scream. He might  _ actually _ scream, and run out of the house and disappear into the woods. He doesn’t  _ want _ twins, how on earth will he cope with  _ two _ babies? One is going to be a hard enough struggle for him as it is!

Little My looks like she might burst into raucous laughter any second, and Snorkmaiden only looks delighted, and he wonders how they aren’t as panicked about it as he is. Snufkin could’ve waved it off as his sister being an annoying gremlin if it wasn’t for Snorkmaiden’s agreement, so now he really doesn’t know what to do.

What if it is twins? How would he cope? That would be two births!

“Don’t look so panicked, mother has twins all the time. Besides, wouldn’t it be better to have twins? Double trouble and all that,” My giggles behind her hand, no doubt already thinking of ways to be the worst aunt possible. “Do you think there’s a way we can check?”

“No!” Snufkin exclaims, and they both quiet down at his outburst. Red hot shame flares up his neck but he ignores it. “I… I can’t have twins…”

How badly he wishes Moomintroll were here now, he knows how to comfort Snufkin when he gets overly stressed, knows how to approach him; slow and careful, only touching him when he agrees to it. But he isn’t here right now. He thought he’d be fine.

“Snufkin, it’ll be okay,” Snorkmaiden says, waving Little My out of the door. He wonders what she’s doing, but he can’t think of that for long. “Sit down, drink some more tea and tell me what scares you about it.”

He does as she suggests, gripping the mug tightly as he takes a small sip. He can’t drink too much or he’ll be sick, he’s sure. Her eyes track his every movement, and he hates how he feels like a rabbit, trapped under a basket, watched by a pitying hunter.

“... I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay…” Snorkmaiden nods, understanding, and Snufkin is grateful to her, even if she can’t help. “My’s gone to get Mamma, okay? She’ll be able to help, and maybe we can ask for her opinion on paint colours too!”

Snufkin doesn’t respond, but he gives her a shaky smile which she returns, and he hopes she knows how much he wishes she didn’t have to get caught up in the crossfire of his mess of a 'relationship'.

 

* * *

He’s having twins. Maybe. He doesn’t really know how to take it, even though he knows it’s only speculation. Mamma and Mymble had rushed over from Moominhouse, led by Little My, and had taken a long, hard look at him before discussing things. They both whispered everything, so Snufkin really didn’t feel particularly optimistic about it not being plausible.

Twins. Two.

It wouldn't be so bad if he wouldn't have to give birth to them both. After thinking long and hard the whole pregnancy so far, Snufkin realised that birth is probably the worst part of it all. Sure, the morning sickness sucks, and yes, all the aches and pains and limited movement add together to make him beyond uncomfortable, but he can ignore that for the joy he feels with each little kick, for the adoring way Moomintroll whispers to their baby (well, babies maybe) every night they spend together. But the worry and absolute  _ fear _ that grips him every time he thinks of actually giving birth is devastating.

Twice.

"I shouldn't worry, dear," Mamma reassures as Snufkin idly taps his nails against the wooden arm of Snorkmaiden's sofa. His lip hurts, and his eyes sting, and he's fine. He's going to be fine. "We can cross this bridge when we get to it. We may even be wrong."

"Mhmm." He nods, ignoring the way Mymble mentions off-handedly that it’s more likely for him to have a litter compared to a single child in favour of trying to block out anything about twins. There's no use worrying about it now when there's nothing to be done about it. Besides, having more than one means that he’d be more busy, therefore less likely to get bored and need a change of scenery. And imagining Moomintroll holding a baby in each arm does make his heart leap in a special way Snufkin wants to cherish.

It's not all bad.

Who is he kidding? It's still bad enough to be worth panicking over, even if it isn’t certain.

But he thinks of the overwhelming excitement he's sure Moomin is going to respond with when Snufkin tells him they might have twins (maybe, not definitely), and calms down maybe a little. It'd hurt. A lot. But if Moomin is with him, it'll be fine.

Well. Not fine. But manageable.

"- think he likes quite neutral colours," Snorkmaiden mentions to Mamma as they ponder over colour schemes, Mymble declaring she needs to take the rest of her children out of Mymble Jr’s hair as she leaves with a passing promise to talk to her son alone soon. Snufkin wonders if they'd tried to include him in the decorating conversation and he missed it, or if they were letting him have his moment of panic to himself. "But I was thinking a nice blue for the living room? And then dark woods and green accents."

"That sounds lovely, Snorkmaiden. I just know they'll both love that," Mamma agrees. Seems they're letting him have his moment. "Although maybe dial back on the cushions. I don't think we'll need to give them many."

Little My has a look on her face Snufkin isn't used to seeing as she hops onto the arm of the sofa next to his hand. "Snufkin, I didn't mean to frighten you earlier."

He raises an eyebrow at her, but isn't in the mood to argue, only a little shocked she's even apologising. Or feeling remorse for something like that at least. Maybe he's being unfair, after all, she isn't a bad sister. Far from it. "It's okay. It’s not definite, and if you’re right, I’ll make you babysit all the time." As if.

"That's the spirit, buddy." My grins in response to his empty threat, and he feels compelled to smile back, even if his breathing is still a little shaky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ijkwfdjnfrjn TAKE EVERYTHING WITH A PINCH OF SALT, THIS IS FANFICTION AFTER ALL. yes i know you cant tell if youre having twins without an ultrasound, i did research and then promptly decided to ignore it before realising it was way too unrealistic (even for ff, i know), and changing it a little to be more up in the air.
> 
> or at least, for all we know ;P
> 
> i be out here, reverse 'deus ex machina'-ing (i think it's called diabolus ex machina, but i prefer what i said)
> 
> ..........dont judge me, storytelling is hard and i never know how to smoothen plots outttttttt
> 
> also sorry for the late update, the 'twist' left me floundering and doubting myself (thanks to stingerpicnic's reassuring messages about it i felt a lot better about it, hence why i left it)
> 
> working on 18 as we speak, prepare for more introspection cause im- i mean, snufkin, is a mess


	18. 3rd Trimester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the house is built, decoration is begun, and Snufkin doesn't know what to think

Snufkin doesn't think Moomintroll stopped smiling the whole week after he told him they might be having twins. It's sweet, for sure, and his good mood was certainly infectious. It didn't take long for Snufkin to feel better about it when all the moomin could focus on was how, if they had them, twins could wear matching outfits, and how cute it would be to have two instead of one.   


Occasionally though, Snufkin feels a spike of anger at the troll. He’s not the one that has to suffer through a long labour, so of course all he's going to feel is excitement.

But he softens up almost immediately because it's just… Really cute to see the way his eyes twinkle with barely contained joy and the way his smile barely ever fades, even in his sleep. It warms his heart, maybe a little too well.

Subsequently, he knows Moomin has caught him staring at him a lot recently, and he both hopes he’s still completely oblivious to it and that he just thinks Snufkin is a little empty-minded. Well, he is, but that’s just because he can’t sleep, although it is a useful excuse to use for many things, staring included.

After five unsuccessful nights of trying to sleep in his tent and being woken every ten minutes by a few well-placed kicks to his bladder, or restless tossing and turning, he gave up and figured that if he was going to be awake at night, he might as well watch Moomintroll sleeping rather than staring at the blank canvas of his tent and hoping the babies (better to think there's more, that way it won't be a surprise if it is twins) would just calm down for a few seconds. The troll had been predictably overjoyed about Snufkin’s request, even helping him bring up some of the blankets from his tent and laying them on the bed, despite the early Summer heat. And it’s been nice. Sleeping, or more just laying, on an actual mattress does make Snufkin feel more rested, even on nights when he doesn’t get an ounce of sleep. And when he does get some sleep, he usually wakes to Moomintroll talking to his stomach, and each morning that’s happened, they somehow always end up laughing and high-spirited

Snufkin couldn’t think of a better person to father his children, because Moomin is everything he’d hoped his own father had been for his mother, and subsequently hoped for himself during the worst heats. He’s sweet and gentle and caring, understanding and willing to help whenever he can. He leaves Snufkin alone when he needs some space, but is always there when Snufkin comes back. He loves their happy accident as much as Snufkin does. He’s Snufkin’s best friend. There’s just not the love there that he’d (shamefully) wished there would be.

Sometimes, usually when Moomin is talking to his bump in third person about him and Snufkin, in some kind of introduction, the mumrik finds it easy to think of them both as characters in a story, and from that detached perspective, he tries to analyse their relationship. Logically, he knows that really isn’t a good idea, because what if he finds something he doesn’t like? What if taking emotion and personal understanding out of the equation leaves something behind? But it’s a hard habit to break out of, something like desperation crawling in the corners of his mind, begging to find something that confirms that Snufkin’s feelings are reciprocated.

He finds lots of those ‘something’s, things like paws on his stomach, kisses on his forehead, arms around him, whispered devotions and future promises. And they haven’t always been like that, and they’re certainly not like that with their other friends, so Snufkin can’t wave them off as simply things that close friends do.

But then he finds many points that counteract that; the fake relationship act, calling each other ‘friend’ when they aren’t around other people, the somewhat wistful look Moomin has on his face whenever Snorkmaiden is brought up.

Which is why that kind of thinking is dangerous. Very dangerous. On the one hand, it might convince Snufkin to admit to something he isn’t sure he can take back, but on the other, it could tear him away from the troll with very little explanation, jealousy corrupting his view of him.

Luckily, the main shell of the house is up after a fortnight or so (possibly more, Snufkin refuses to keep time anymore), and so he doesn’t have to dwell on those thoughts. It would’ve been sooner if Joxter hadn’t ‘helped’, because apparently he’s been a menace. Snufkin finds he quite likes hearing that, his father’s mischief like a reassuring anchor in a sea of niceness and warmth. Sure it’s not bad for the valley to be so… Happy, but a little break up of the constant calm of the valley keeps things interesting.

Snufkin had been more excited, arriving in the glade and seeing their house actually placed there, than he had been expecting to feel. He doesn’t like to have things, but it isn’t just his, and something about that makes it special. He likes their house.

Or, what is there of it anyway. From the outside, you might think it looks done, and he’s completely taken aback by how much work was done in such a short amount of time (but Moomin tells him that a house he made Mymble on the back of a giant turtle a few years ago had only taken him and Little My a few days, if that, which certainly concerns Snufkin just a small amount). The walls are cladded in planks of wood, varnished with a deep green wash so the natural swirls and knots in the wood are still visible, and the shape of the walls themselves aren’t completely perfect either, making them look weathered and like the cottage has been in this glade for years. The roof is covered with green shingles, a lighter shade than the walls, placed asymmetrically but in a way that looks similarly ‘old’, just like the cladding. Snufkin knows that beneath the cladding is a layer of plaster that covers the bricks, but you can’t tell from just looking at it how it was built.

Snufkin finds he quite like the white window frames, and a door with a window at the front of the porch, not too flashy or expensive looking, but homely and simple.

… It doesn't feel like 'home' though. Yes, he's excited, and yes, he's very surprised by the build, and  _ yes _ , the glade is perfect. But unlike his tent, he doesn't feel drawn to the interior like it's a part of him, can't hear the way the wooden beams and bricks creak and settle the way he can hear the canvas ripple and the rope bend. But he smiles when Moomintroll casts a sideways glance at him, as if gauging his reaction, because he's not going to let this ruin anything.

Snufkin of all people knows that home, as a feeling, takes time. It may not feel like home  _ yet _ , but it's not finished yet and they haven't moved in yet, so there's still time for him to learn to love it. Like he learnt how to love Moominvalley.

A paw slips into his hand as Moomin pulls him carefully to the base of the steps leading up into the porch, warm and comforting, and he's reminded of why this is important. Breathe in, smile, and enjoy it for what it is, instead of judging it for what it isn't.

* * *

 

Moomin shows him around the different rooms, his voice echoing on the empty walls, a chill in the bare space that feels odd given the heat outside. Snorkmaiden and Little My are both already painting the living room when they step through the porch, a light blue that almost matches Moomintroll's eyes. Seeing some colour already makes the space feel more inviting, and Snufkin wonders vaguely if they knew he'd feel better about it if it wasn't all the same plaster-white inside.

"The guest bedroom is through there," Moomin explains, opening a door so Snufkin can look inside. Devoid of anything, it's hard to imagine it being a bedroom, let alone a part of a house, but he nods in a way he hopes looks convincing. "And then the downstairs bathroom."

Moomintroll continues to explain that, because they had to fit the plumbing as they were building, the bathrooms are already starting to be fitted. There's a bath, a toilet and a sink, and a towel rack placed against the wall on the floor. "Once the tiles are placed, everything else can come in, but for now it's kind of… Messy."

Nodding again, Snufkin tries to imagine how he'd fit in here, what he'd do in this bathroom, but whether it's because it's unfinished or because he just can't, it doesn't feel right.

There's already a few counters in the kitchen, gifted to them by Ms. Fillyjonk, who had recently had her own kitchen refurbished. He quite likes them, and he voices as much, enjoying the way Moomin seems to gain a bit more confidence at the reassurance that Snufkin doesn't hate the inside of the house.

They make their way upstairs, and Moomin shows him 'their' bedroom, a wide window looking over the glade on one side, the chimney flute following through from the fireplace in the kitchen below.

"... I know this room seems rather large, but there will be a desk over there, and some bookcases, and the bed over there," the troll explains, but most of it is lost on Snufkin as he tries his hardest to remind himself that he's probably not going to sleep in this room very often. It is big, certainly, and it almost feels cavernous, but it'd be so lonely for just one person, right? "So really, it's not that big at all."

The upstairs bathroom feels more comfortable, more counters like the ones from the kitchen against the wall, a sink placed between them and cupboards above. This bath has a shower attachment (although it hasn't been attached yet).

They leave the bathroom to look at the other bedrooms, but Snufkin almost wants to stop the tour, although he doesn’t really know why. The light streaming in from the hallway window feels blinding, wrong, too much, and the lack of space makes him feel uneasy. Maybe it’s just the ‘uncanny valley’ effect of it feeling like it should be a home but being empty.

A quick look into the children’s bedroom is all that’s needed for now, nothing in there either.

Eventually though, the tour is over (Snufkin finds himself thankful for that when they both grow awkward standing in the spare room that will inevitably actually be Snufkin's room, should he even want to sleep inside), and they both join the girls downstairs, helping them to paint.

It's a lot more fun than he'd been expecting, especially when My 'accidentally' paints Moomin's paw instead of the wall, and Snorkmaiden rolls her eyes fondly. The four of them haven’t had fun like this for months (and he knows that’s entirely his fault), although he does feel bad for not missing Sniff in moments like this.

Snufkin tries to keep his smile up and his laughter light, even when his mind begins to circle down into a spiral of doubt; how much of this have they missed out on because he ruined things? Have things really been strained or is it just him?

It takes until the sun begins to set, but eventually the living room is completely painted, and the four of them sit down on the floor to take a break before they head back to Moominhouse.

"So what do you think, Snufkin?" Snorkmaiden asks, trying to get the blue paint out of Little My's hair with little success.

He shrugs, looking around. He doesn't know what he thinks, in all honesty, both overwhelmed and unbothered, a little confused by his lackluster reaction. "It's spacious."

My rolls her eyes, calling him 'scatterbrain' before waving Snorkmaiden's paws out of her hair and standing. "No shit, empty-head. There's nothing in here,” Her arms cross over her chest as she looks around pointedly. “Anyway, we're leaving now. Have fun."

Moomin and Snufkin share a look as Little My almost drags Snorkmaiden out of the house with very little in the way of an explanation, leaving them alone in their new house before they can even say ‘see you later’.

"Maybe you'll like it more when it actually feels like a home." Moomintroll says, ever understanding as they turn back to each other, although Snufkin can hear something like doubt tainting his words.

"I'm sure I will." He smiles, shuffling closer to him now they're alone. It’s all still wrong, but maybe he’s just having a bad day.   


They spend the next half an hour just chatting, mostly about things that aren’t the house, almost like Moomin is trying to take his mind off of it. He feels guilty for making the other feel like he needs to skirt around the topic but he doesn’t really know how to convince him when he can’t even convince himself that it’s right just yet.

Trying to think of something to convince Moomin that he's looking forward to moving in (even if that does feels somewhat daunting), Snufkin remembers the wooden mermaid he whittled for the other on his trip. "Well, we should probably head back too, right? Don't want to be late for dinner."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Moomin hums, helping Snufkin to stand and giving him a bright smile. “Let's go.”

* * *

 

After dinner, Snufkin disappears into his tent for a while, finding the mermaid easily but also taking some time to himself. He thinks of how desperately Moomin seemed to want Snufkin to love their house straight away, and he feels a bit ashamed that he doesn't 'love' it, per se. But then he also thinks of how the troll continued to steer the conversation away from the house for most of the meal, and finds that maybe he understands.

And that’s enough, right?

“Do you remember when I went on my trip a little while ago?” Snufkin asks as he shuts Moomin’s bedroom door behind him, holding the mermaid behind his back with a neutral expression.

Moomintroll nods slowly from his position on top of the duvet, not quite connecting any dots yet. “Yeah, of course.”

“And I said I made something for you?” He continues, watching the way realisation dawns on the other’s face. Snufkin sits down on the bed next to the troll when he sits up, before presenting him the mermaid. It feels a little odd to be giving him a gift, as usually Snufkin isn’t the type to give things, instead opting to go on adventures or make up new songs for the other. “Consider it an early housewarming present.”

Moomintroll takes the mermaid gently, his fur brushing lightly against the skin of Snufkin’s palms, a look of fascination and something else that he can’t put into words lighting up his eyes. His thumbs trace the knife marks, studying the details intensely, like he might find the secrets of the world in this one, wooden gift. “Oh Snufkin, they’re lovely! Did you really think of me enough to carve me a mermaid?”

He chuckles softly, unsure why that being what the moomin decided to take from the gift was so funny. “Mhmm. I took the trip to take my mind off of… Well, everything, and yet the whole time, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

It takes him only a few seconds to realise how weighty that confession would actually sound, but there’s only a glimmer of something different in the other’s expression for a second before it’s gone and it’s like Snufkin didn’t just almost spill his biggest secret. Still, his heart seems content to start racing as though waiting for Moomintroll to tell him to leave, hands fisting awkwardly in the duvet cover.

“Well that’s incredibly sweet,” Moomin says, cautious and soft, like he can tell his next words will either make or break the mumrik. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you either.”

Snufkin takes a sharp inhale, the response involuntary and completely out of his control. It’s not like he didn’t already know this, Moomintroll practically told him as much the day he returned, but here, in the bedroom they’re currently sharing, it feels somehow  _ more _ .

He watches the troll put the mermaid down on his bedside table, next to a framed picture of them on a boat from a few years ago, with bated breath, unsure what happens next. Do they talk about it? Do they move on like it never happened? Does this one moment get added to the pile of a thousand other moments that Snufkin can’t help but remember vividly, all because of what they could’ve meant but were left open ended and without resolution?

“We should probably sleep now,” Moomin says, breaking the moment with enough precision that Snufkin can tell it was deliberate. He doesn’t know whether to sigh in relief or cry with the need to have his feelings out there, so instead he nods and lays down beside him, ignoring the way their closeness begins to make his heart ache. “Goodnight Snufkin, sleep well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not very happy with this chapter but once the house is finished i'll be happy lol, describing houses when they're empty is hard af lol
> 
> also catch snufkin being pessimistically optimistic in just accepting that he's probably having twins because i cant be arsed with doing much more explaining for that. that way, if i slip up and write 'babies' or 'children' instead of the singular, then there's a reason XD
> 
> oof ouch are we leading up to more angstttt?????? ;P


	19. 3rd Trimester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein a chat(™) is had about expectations, realisations, and secrets

“What is this about?” Snufkin asks, sighing quietly as the cushion behind his back helps ease the ache that’s been building steadily ever since he entered his third trimester.

Moomintroll sits next to him, perched on the arm of the armchair that Pappa let Snufkin use after he struggled to get up off the sofa the other day. His closeness is nice, because Snufkin currently feels very unnerved, and it's reassuring to have him there.

Opposite them, like they’re about to be interrogated, sit their parents. Which is bad enough as it is, without Joxter somehow managing to have stretched himself out across both Mymble and Moominpappa’s laps, whilst simultaneously looking as serious as possible. Pappa looks very irritated to have his feet in his lap but seems to be dealing with it by looking straight at the two of them, which Snufkin feels is worse than them arguing. It's just mostly embarrassing.

“We just wanted to have a chat with you both, as a family.” Mamma explains with a small smile that looks much too strained to be reassuring.

Moomin nods, and smiles at Snufkin when he turns to look to him with a questioning frown; if he's fine with it, then there really isn't anything to be worried about, right? Even if it does feel like an interrogation. He wonders vaguely if this is going to be some kind of 'if either of you hurt the other, you're both going to have our wrath', but it'd be a bit late by now (both because it'd be redundant, but also because he's sure they've been hurting each other a lot already).

"Truth be told… None of us know what to expect," Pappa begins, paw rubbing the fur on the back of his neck sheepishly. "In regards to the babies. Personally, I've never known a moomin to have children with anyone that isn't… Well, another moomin, usually because we aren't compatible with other species in the slightest."

Joxter not-so-subtly glares at him, making him backtrack and tack 'biologically' onto the end of his sentence, but that doesn't seem to satisfy him. Mamma agrees with Pappa however, a stern look on her face directed to the mumrik, and he shrugs before relaxing.

"It is true, most other species aren't compatible with us, but because of the mymbles' increased fertility, especially during a heat, it seems biological compatibility becomes a null point, although I'm not entirely sure that's the only reason," Mamma explains, Granny's book in her lap (of course). "But it seems Granny didn't know completely either. I’m sure Mymble knows better than we do."

They all turn to look at Mymble, who seems way too calm about this, as usual. "Why yes, of course, although to be honest, this is all new to me too. I've never had sex with a moomin on my heat before, and all of my children are fathered by people not too different from myself. Biologically speaking, of course."

Snufkin really isn't sure why they needed to know that, his mind sticking on 'on my heat' and why she'd have to clarify that, but he doesn't know if it's better or worse that he and Moomintroll are the only ones seemingly shocked by that.

"Wait wait, what other moomins do you know?" Moomintroll asks before the conversation can continue, and Snufkin facepalms. Did he really have to ask?

"I don't," Mymble responds cheerfully, casually destroying Moomin's sense of comfort as his eyes flit between each of their parents rapidly, her insinuation sinking in. "Oh dear, I thought you knew."

"How… Would I have known?" Moomin asks, voice shrill but quiet in his shock. Of course, he isn't used to his parents sleeping around all the time like Snufkin is (not that it's a bad thing), so to suddenly have the realisation that his best friend's mother has had sex with either his mother, father, or both must be somewhat world-shattering. "Next you'll tell me Pappa and Joxter are in love."

It's said with such sarcasm that all eyes land on the troll, trying to figure out if he's joking or not, making him clearly uncomfortable. "Moomin…" Snufkin begins, grimacing in sympathy when he slowly drags his eyes over to look at him, hoping his expression tells him that they'll talk about it later if he wants to, but to not ask too much now.

"Oh."

Joxter, somehow unbothered by Moomin's tough realisation, turns to Pappa and smirks slowly. "Does that make my son-in-law my step-son too?"

"Don't start." Pappa hisses, and Mamma rolls her eyes.

Snufkin is both relieved and a little annoyed that the conversation derailed quite so much from the subject at hand, but despite knowing their intentions were good, all he can feel is dread. If no one else knows what to expect, how are they supposed to help when things escalate?

"Mymble and I are keeping our calendars clear from now until after you've given birth," Mamma says to him, ignoring everyone else to bring the conversation back around when she realises the panic on his face. Snufkin is endlessly thankful for her intuition. "But just because we don't know exactly what's going to happen doesn't mean things are going to go badly, okay? There's always a first time for everything."

Mymble nods in agreement, covering Joxter's face with his hat when he starts snarling at Pappa for some reason (did they ever have that talk Snufkin urged Joxter to have with Pappa? As much as he hopes they did, something tells him they haven’t). "We're with you every step of the way, dear. Leave the worrying to us."

Somehow, it's enough to reassure him at least a little (or more accurately, enough to enable him to push everything else back into the little corner of things to think about at a later date that's slowly overflowing), so he smiles, dreading it all coming back up but not caring.

Moomintroll's paw slips into his hair, twirling some strands around his fingers (possibly to calm himself, which Snufkin is happy to help with), seeming to be unbothered after a moment, but Snufkin can see the shock still permeating every ounce of his being. "Thank you, we appreciate that a lot."

Snufkin nods in agreement, kind of hoping that they are having twins, and that one will be a mumrik and the other a moomin, because he has no idea what a mixture of both would look like, and it seems no one else does either.

* * *

 

"Did you know our parents are fuck-buddies?" Moomintroll asks him later that night, distractedly stroking the swell of Snufkin's stomach as they lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. "Or am I the last one to find out, as usual."

Snufkin laughs quietly, eyes fixed on the way the other looks simultaneously perturbed and resigned. Poor thing. "Language, Moomintroll."

"Okay but answer my question please?" The troll whines, eyes twinkling with mischief as he nuzzles his snout against Snufkin's neck, the fur tickling the skin and making him laugh.

"I knew about Pappa and father," he answers once he stops laughing, ignoring the way the other stills for a moment as he takes it in. "They're not at all as subtle as they might like to think. Besides, they have a lot of history. Have you seen the way they look at each other across the dinner table sometimes, if they aren’t sat together? Or how they argue like those old married couples in the comedy radio talk shows? Even you noticed something was weird between them after the Spring party all those months ago.”

"... Now that I think about it, maybe I should've realised before," Moomin thinks aloud after a moment, quietly contemplative. "Guess there's a lot of things that seem obvious once you know them, but you just can't tell before that."

Snufkin nods, head resting against the other's shoulder. "Joxter told me about them too, so I definitely had an advantage over you anyway. I had no idea about… Everything else.” Everything else being Mymble’s activities with Moomintroll’s parents (both of them, he’d had the bravery to ask).

“Do you think they… Are they all together?” Moomin asks then, and Snufkin takes a moment to actually think about it.

He wouldn’t put it past his parents, and both Pappa and Mamma have many of their own secrets. Plus, he can’t help but think that with how kind and welcoming the moomins are, it’s very easy to fall in love with them. And if Snufkin finds it easy, and Joxter could fall in love with at least one of them, would it really be so surprising for them all to be intimate like that? “Maybe. Does it matter?”

“No, not at all. They aren’t the only ones with secrets, after all.”

He hums in response, and they both sit in the silence following his admission. Secrets seem to be the one constant in their life now. Both the ones they keep from everyone else and the ones kept from each other. Snufkin studies the way Moomintroll’s face feels unreadable to him, thinks of how often he struggles to understand him now, and he agrees. Everyone has secrets here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for my inactivity i'm majorly depressed lol
> 
> did someone say polyamorous rights? oh yeah, i did
> 
> can we feel the tension building? no? oh well, i'm gonna be building it for a few more chapters yet
> 
> yay
> 
> gyfvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvn where is my motivation ;_;


	20. 3rd Trimester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein they move into the house and even more discussions are had, yay

What is worse, waiting for paint to dry or watching Moomin carry heavy things  _ again _ and being unable to control his thoughts? Snufkin doesn’t know. They're supposed to be moving in tomorrow, and all he can think of is christening all their new furniture in the worst way possible.

Little My exclaims in anger when he drops paint on her for the third time, cussing him out for paying more attention to the troll, as he carries in the sofa with Pappa, than his job of painting the last little bit of the master bedroom, near the window. "Maybe if you weren't so busy staring after your boyfriend, this would've been done by now."

"Oh quiet, you're one to talk." He argues back, smirking when she frowns in both fake confusion and real panic.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she shrugs, looking away, but not before Snufkin sees the way her face is beginning to redden. "I don't have a boyfriend."

"I know you don't, but I've seen the way you look at Snorkmaiden," she doesn't look at him, but he hopes she can hear how, underneath the teasing, he does care. "I'm not totally blind. You two are cute together."

Her paintbrush stills in the air, and Snufkin can't help but feel like he's said the wrong thing. "... We're not together. Not officially, anyway."

"’Officially’?" He asks, knowing he's being nosey but not really caring (especially after all the painful questions she gave him earlier that year), painting the last spot of white with the light sage colour he picked out. "Have you spoken?"

Little My turns to him after taking too long to paint her last area too, closing the paint pot and leaving the brush on top. "She has some pretty bad baggage, left behind by the mess of yours and Moomin's relationship, but yes, we've spoken, and decided we shouldn't try whilst she's still trying to get over Moomintroll."

Her words sting a little, but they're fair, so he lets it go. "That's wise then."

"Anyway, little hypocritical aren't we?" If he thought she wouldn't turn it back on him again, he was clearly wrong. "'Have you spoken', have you? Do you know how you're going to cope with your heats when he's hibernating? Is he even aware that's why you leave every Winter? Do you even like the house he's built your little family? You're exactly like your father, you know."

Snufkin's hackles rise as she hits the nail on the head. "To be completely honest, My, it's none of your business."

"Oh but it is, because if you or him come crying back to the rest of us, because you think the other doesn't love you anymore because you don't talk, or because you spent your heat with some rando on the road one year when you couldn’t stand to stay during Winter, or because he got fed up of you needing space and you got fed up of him needing you close, all because you can't talk to each other, who is going to have to deal with the fall out?"   


Snufkin regrets bringing Snorkmaiden up at all now, shocked and a little upset by how aggressive she's being about it all. He swallows that down though, giving off an air of nonchalance (hopefully) as she tears apart their relationship piece by piece.

"Let's face it, mumrik, you are keeping secrets, both of you, and that never ends well in a relationship, especially one as dependent on communicating your needs as the two of you," something changes in her stance as she looks at him, and her voice softens a little. "I'm just saying that I can tell you and Moomin aren't actually on the same page about anything, and I'm worried about how the other shoe is gonna drop."

"Thanks for the concern, but we're fine."

They aren't though, and he can tell she knows he's bluffing.

* * *

 

It feels odd to know he's packing up his tent for the last time in this particular spot. Or well, watching Moomintroll pack up his tent for him because he can't actually bend over anymore (unless he wants to fall flat on his face).

Snufkin thinks back to the first time he pitched his tent next to the river, slightly south of the bridge, with no idea that this place would soon become the closest thing to home he's ever found in his travels. In fact, he'd even thought he'd only be staying there for a couple of nights before moving on.

Moomintroll laughs quietly as he drops a wooden peg and it rolls into the water, treading in to retrieve it, and all Snufkin can think of is how far they've come since they first met, young and rambunctious and full of energy. Not much has changed in the 'rambunctious and full of energy' part, he thinks humourously, but as is par for the course, everything has changed really.

When they first met, Moomin was annoying. Or at least, Snufkin found him annoying. His constant need for attention, his clinginess, his desperation for companionship. It had all clashed so horribly with Snufkin's need for space and time to himself.

But something shifted pretty quickly when Snufkin realised that he wasn't actually annoyed by Moomin's attention so much as disturbed by how much he wanted it. He still is, but it was worse when they were young (especially teenagers). He thinks back to the year Moomintroll had a growth spurt over Winter and how desperately Snufkin had to keep fishing his thoughts out of the gutter, going through his own changes. The thought still makes him blush, even now.

After realising it wasn't Moomin's fault that he was so clingy, they grew closer and closer until Snufkin had to admit to being attached. He left that year at Winter, after staying in Moominvalley for the longest stretch of time he'd ever spent anywhere that wasn't with Mymble, with no idea he'd return that Spring. But he had, his feet and his tune bringing him back at the first sign of snow melt, and Moomintroll had been so overjoyed and excited to go on adventures with him, he really had no control over the situation anymore.

Snufkin is incredibly glad he didn't. If he'd had his own way, he would never have returned that Spring, and other than the sense of home, he never would've experienced half of the adventures they've had.

And it all started with him pitching his tent here.

He doesn't mind change, quite likes it when it's got nothing to do with him, but this feels different, momentous, like things can never go back to the way they were before after this day. Which is ridiculous, because actually, things changed irreversibly the day they climbed Lonely Mountain and ended up mating in a cave.

Snufkin clears his throat when he feels his face heat up in embarrassment at the memory (as usual), ignoring the way it makes his heart clench in a way he isn’t particularly averse to.

“All set?” Pappa asks as he crosses the bridge, carrying the last few things of Moomintroll’s out of the house. “I picked up your gift from Mymble off the shelf, Snufkin.”

“Oh thank you,” he smiles gratefully, forcing his eyes to focus again after getting lost in his thoughts. “I hadn’t forgotten it.”

Pappa smiles in understanding, helping Moomin roll the tent up after passing Snufkin the brown package. Mamma must’ve dusted it, given how long it was up there.

“I think we’re ready.” Moomintroll announces as he puts Snufkin’s backpack on his back, fishing equipment in his paws and a last wistful look at Moominhouse as they all turn to head back to their house.

It won’t be the last time they stay there, he’s sure, but this is a completely new kind of adventure. It’s a new home.

* * *

 

Mamma and Little My had promised to wait for them at the house, and Mymble had said she’d visit him either tomorrow or the day after. None of them could find Joxter that morning, but Snufkin knows he’ll visit at some point, so he doesn’t mind.

“Hello dears, is that everything?” Mamma asks as she opens the front doors for them, helping Snufkin up the steps with a gentle smile. “I made stew for your first dinner in the house, would you like us to stay or do you want to be alone?”

Moomin shrugs, a wide grin on his face, letting the mumrik decide. Snufkin desperately wants to know what he’s thinking, wants to let his excitement fill him too, because as happy as he is to be moving in (the house does feel a lot more welcoming now there’s furniture and pictures and plants placed around, and he doesn’t feel uncomfortable in the slightest), his chest still feels uncomfortably tight with apprehension.

It’s such a big house for just two people. It won’t be just the two of them for much longer, he knows, but there are so many rooms devoid of life.

“You can all stay for dinner,” he says, voice quieter than he would’ve liked it to be, wondering if Mamma can see the way he hesitated when her expression softens a little. “If you want.”

“That would be lovely, wouldn’t it?” She asks Pappa, who agrees, following Moomin up the stairs to place the last few blankets and cushions in the bedroom. “My, why don’t you go and get Snorkmaiden.”

Little My gives them a short farewell before disappearing out the front door, and Mamma asks Snufkin to join her in the kitchen.

He sits at the circular dining table after placing the gift on the shelf next to the front door, watching her as she bustles around trying to remember where all the different utensils are kept. Snufkin isn’t the type for homesickness, but he thinks this might be the closest he’s felt to it.

“There will be some leftovers for tomorrow, if neither of you want to cook, and you’re obviously both welcome back at Moominhouse for meals any day,” she explains, stirring the stew. “It will take some getting used to, especially for someone as free spirited as you, but I promise it gets easier.”

Snufkin nods, even though she wouldn’t be able to tell, tapping his fingers against the wood idly with one hand, the other resting comfortingly on his stomach. She must be a mind reader. “Was it hard for you at first?”

“Oh extremely. I don’t often feel trapped, but sometimes it felt like I’d given up the world for a small plot of land. And it was hard for Moominpappa too, especially being so far from his friends,” Mamma leans back against the counter, green eyes serious but comforting. “But really, we were both being a little overdramatic. Just because we had a house to return to didn’t mean we couldn’t still go on many adventures, or travel the world. Of course, when we had Moomintroll, we couldn’t go too far, but as he got older, we did still travel some. But the difference between us and you is that we never had anyone to fall back on if we needed space.”

She smiles when Snufkin takes a deep breath; of course she’s right, perhaps he is thinking about it too much.

“I can say it as many times as you need me to, but you have lots of friends and family who are very willing to help out in any way we can. If a break is what you need, either alone or with Moomintroll, Pappa and I are always here. And if we aren’t, your mother would be delighted to help out too, I’m sure. Even Little My would, although she might try to pretend otherwise.” They both laugh softly at the thought of Little My looking after children.

“I know, I just get stuck in my head a lot.”

* * *

 

“The stew was delicious, Mamma,” Snufkin says as their guests (that’s certainly weird to say) make their way out of the house. The sky is already dark, the stars twinkling gently in the inky darkness, and he yawns before continuing. “Thank you.”

“Anytime dear, do pop by for some tea soon won’t you both?” She asks, giving them both a hug before ruffling the fur between Moomintroll’s ears, smiling fondly at them both as she waves, following behind Moominpappa. Snufkin and Moomin wait by the door until they’ve disappeared into the bushes and back towards Moominhouse, Little My and Snorkmaiden already having left a little while ago.

“Bedtime?” Moomin asks as he shuts the doors, chuckling when Snufkin yawns again in response. “Would you like me to help you set up your room?”

And that’s just the problem, isn’t it? Because Snufkin would really rather not sleep in a different room, but there’s a quiet expectancy in the other’s voice that he thinks means he wants him to say yes, so he nods, ignoring the way his heart flutters as Moomin takes his hand in his paw and leads him upstairs.

They’d decided (or rather, Snufkin had asked) that he have the spare bedroom, because not only was it smaller than the master, and therefore more like what he’s used to, but also because Snufkin doesn’t want Moomin to have to be the one to make do with less than he deserves (because isn’t the whole reason they have seperate rooms Snufkin’s fault?).

Together, they gather up the blankets Snufkin likes to snuggle up in and lay them in a somewhat circular shape on the bed in the spare bedroom upstairs, not saying much because, in Snufkin’s case, he’s simply too tired. It’s not really the best nest he’s ever seen, because they don’t have enough blankets for that (and because it’s only big enough for one), but it’ll do he supposes.

Moomintroll stands by the door as Snufkin starts to change into his pyjamas, facing stubbornly out of the room as if he hasn’t already seen him naked, and it hurts a little. But they don’t need to pretend here, do they?

“Well, goodnight Snufkin…” Moomin says, voice fakely cheerful, hands bunching together nervously in front of him, as if he wants to reach out and hug him but thought better of it. “Sleep well. I’m just across the hall if you need me.”

“Thank you, I’ll be fine,” Snufkin assures him, cringing when his voice comes out more monotone than he’d expected. Hopefully Moomin will think it’s because he’s tired and not any other reason. “Goodnight Moomintroll.”

They stare at each other for a moment, neither moving, both standing a few feet from each other and yet miles away. That is, until Moomin turns and leaves, footsteps echoing on the creaking floorboards, breaking the tension with little finesse.

The door clicks shut with a strange note, one he isn’t used to from bedroom doors, and as he turns out the oil lamp on the bedside table before climbing into the nest and curling around a pillow, his hat casting a strange shadow on the wall opposite the window, Snufkin feels lonelier than he has in months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: wonders where my motivation went  
> also me: writes a whole chapter and a half in a day  
> me: oh
> 
> CAN THEY PLEASE JUST TALK? I KNOW IM THE AUTHOR BUT JWDNNJKVJKN IM LOSING IT
> 
> me getting super indulgent now with the speculation and angst and tension im sorry. i dont care if its annoying im having a blast
> 
> yay


	21. 3rd Trimester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Snufkin and Moomin actually have a proper conversation but it’s short so they barely solve much more than a few surface issues and it frustrates the author to no end

Snufkin doesn’t sleep at all.   


The house is new, both in general and to Snufkin, and so every settling floorboard jolts him awake, every gush of wind that doesn’t have the same tune as it would from Moominhouse or his tent makes him feel odd, every creak of Moomin’s bed like thunder, and the room itself feels cold, no matter how many blankets he pulls from his nest and wraps around himself.

Somewhere around four in the morning, he entertains the thought of slipping into Moomintroll’s room like a child after a nightmare, to curl up next to him and fall asleep, but he didn’t want to disturb him, not ready to admit defeat to the house just yet. Nor does he want to cross any lines; sleeping together in Moominhouse was different because there were no spare rooms free most nights, but here, there’s three empty bedrooms. There’s no excuse here.

At least the bed itself is comfortable. Snufkin feels like he’s had enough rest to be able to function okay-ish, as long as he doesn’t have to do too much.

He pretends to be asleep when Moomintroll pads across the hall and down the stairs at seven twenty-three, although he doesn’t really know why. Maybe it’s just to keep him from thinking Snufkin didn’t have a good night. He doesn’t want to worry him after all. Besides, he doesn’t really want to get up yet.

But then the smell of pancakes wafts up the stairs and through the crack between his door and the frame, and it’s like he’s been summoned. Pancakes always make him feel better, especially if they’re made by a moomin.

* * *

 

“Morning, Snuff, sleep well?” Moomintroll asks when he slips into the kitchen, an apron a little like Mamma’s but green tied around his middle. It’s cute, and it makes Snufkin feel a little warm in the chest. “Oh, you look tired.”

Snufkin flinches a little at the blatant honesty, causing Moomin to backtrack a little and apologise, but he tries to laugh it off to make the moomin feel better. He knows he looks terrible, had caught his reflection in the mirror above the sink as he washed his hands and brushed his teeth just now, the dark circles under his eyes stark against his skin. “I… I didn’t sleep?”

He didn’t mean for it to come out as a question, nor to stutter, but he also didn’t mean to be honest, so it seems it doesn’t matter what he meant to do. The look of worry on the troll’s face makes him both uncomfortable and flustered, and he has to pull his gaze away just to stop him from taking it back and pretending he slept fine. The grain of the dining table really is interesting, he thinks blankly, only slightly registering the clatter of plates and cutlery before his pancakes are placed in front of him.

“I didn’t really sleep either,” Moomintroll admits, voice unsure, as though admitting something monumentous, sliding into the seat next to Snufkin, the apron folded up and hanging on the mantelpiece. Neither of them start their pancakes, not really looking at each other either, like the morning is a liminal space where everything and nothing can happen at the same time. “Lonely?” There’s a vulnerability to the single word, held between them both like a sheet of thin glass.

Something simultaneously light and heavy fills Snufkin’s throat at the word, relief that he wasn't the only one feeling alone mixing with the tension of being called out and the panic of his feelings being that obvious. He swallows hard, nails following a crack in the tabletop as he tries to answer. “Mhmm… It was… Cold, and I missed you.”

Honesty is the best policy. Talk. Be honest. He can almost see Little My giving him a thumbs up in his mind’s eye, and he knows that even if it’s hard, this isn’t a dangerous thing to say. It won’t break their act, it won’t stir up unnecessary feelings, and it’s not too far from normal for them.

Snufkin meets Moomin’s eyes across the table, and finds a similar apprehension and relief in his ocean blue eyes as he’s sure are in his own. “Me too. Maybe separate bedrooms isn’t a good idea right now.”

He nods, unable to stop the smile spreading across his lips at the ease with which that was solved. It feels good to be on the same page. If only everything else would be that easy.

“So, now we’re living together, and it isn’t a theoretical future anymore, I think we should talk about Winter,” Moomintroll says conversationally, taking a bite of his pancakes as he pauses. “Because Snorkmaiden keeps telling me I should know your plans.”

The pancakes are sweet enough that they don’t  _ quite _ turn to cardboard in his mouth, but it’s close enough that he almost chokes. “Oh.”

Moomin has a gentle kind of look on his face that doesn’t really reach his eyes. It’s odd. Snufkin can see something like doubt and regret in the other’s eyes, and guilt fills him like liquid lead, seeping into every vessel. He doesn’t know what kind of internal struggles the other is having, and this whole time, he’s been so focused on his own that it’s almost like he forgot Moomin is also caught up in this mess. Surely keeping up a fake relationship must be just as hard when you’re not actually in love with the other, right? And all this time he’s been feeling terrible, Moomintroll probably has been too. So accommodating and kind and understanding, but where is the reciprocity there? Whilst he’s been worried about them not being lovers, has he forgotten they’re friends?

That’s overdramatic. He takes a deep breath, and instead of putting his own wants first, he decides to be fair. “What would you like to happen? In an ideal world, where I don’t have a preference, what would be best for you?”

The other’s brows furrow, and it’s his turn to swallow hard, putting his fork down. “Really? You won’t be upset by my answer?”

“Nope, this is hypothetical after all.”

“... I’d want you to at least stay for Winter  _ this  _ year. We could spend your heat together, and then you could either hibernate with me… Or even just spend your heat together and then you can travel. If you wanted to. That’s what I’d want.” Moomin answers, honesty painting his words a bright yellow in the golden light of morning streaming in through the window, paws wringing together.

And so Snufkin tries to imagine it. A Winter, spent inside, asleep. Would it really be so bad? Surely hibernation passes just like a long night, almost as though not much time has passed, right? So would it be so bad to stay if he was asleep most of that time?

Can mumriks even hibernate? He hadn’t thought of that. If he can’t, he’s sure it’d be torture to be awake for a whole season whilst Moomintroll sleeps through it all, what would he do? Watch him sleep? Redecorate the house? Find a new hobby?

He may even have to do that, if the babies are particularly fussy he’ll need to stay awake anyway, although he doesn’t feel quite as worried about that being a plausible outcome as he feels he should be. It’s not like he doesn’t want to do those things, his heart and his mind almost overlapping completely, but with just enough room for doubt. Maybe he just doesn’t quite know his own mind right now.

And the promise of spending his next heat with Moomintroll, despite the fact that they could probably drop the act by then… Makes him feel things that he’s not really sure he wants to analyse right now. But the insinuation hangs between them in the air, thick and heavy and almost tangible, like the tension they both felt just after Snufkin returned. Like this could be a regular occurence. Like Snufkin’s heats could become  _ theirs _ . Like… Moomintroll will still want him, maybe even for the rest of their lives.

“I might have to stay this Winter anyway,” he admits, voice soft, as though scared of breaking whatever moment they’re having now, too many shattered possibilities sitting between them for him to count, the casualties of failed conversations and misunderstandings. “If the babies need me… Which they probably will.”

The troll’s eyes light up, and Snufkin considers that a win. “If you’re comfortable with that though.”

“I wouldn’t say so if I wasn’t,” he starts, cringing a little internally at the hypocrisy and the lie, but there is at least a ring of truth in it, and that’s more than enough. “Besides, it’ll be another new adventure for us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally giving the people what they want
> 
> or at least a little ;P
> 
> i will....reply to comments when my brain returns from mush land, for now just know i appreciate each one and i cry over them every night uwu


	22. 3rd Trimester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Mymble drops yet another bomb on Snufkin’s fragile sense of comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick announcement/posting update at the end notes!

Later that afternoon, when Moomin had headed off to help Snorkmaiden with some of her own redecorating, there’s a knock on the door. Snufkin smiles as he opens the door for Mymble, watching her place a large cotton bag on the coffee table before accepting her forehead kiss and leading her around the house to show her everything.

“Most of the stuff isn’t new, it’s either been given to us or made by the others," he explains when she says she recognised the counters in their kitchen. "Which is good."

Mymble raises an eyebrow at him but doesn't question him further on why that's good, taking a seat on the sofa with a cup of tea in one hand and a biscuit in the other. She looks as relaxed as always, coat hanging in the porch and shoes on the rack, posture chilled and easy, and it helps Snufkin to relax too.

"So, how was the first night in the new house?" She asks, taking a sip of her tea as she waits for him to answer.

Snufkin considers lying for a moment, wonders if she'll be able to see through his lies, and he knows she would, because as distant a mother as she's been, she has enough children by now to be able to tell when one of them is lying.

"Not great. I barely slept."

"Well it's no surprise, I bet you don't have nearly enough blankets for your nest."

His brows knit together, confusion probably coming off of him in waves. It isn’t that, he thinks. Of course, he knows he's been nesting (although Moomintroll had had the  _ foresight _ to know he would be, so they hadn't discussed it or anything), but Snufkin has never been told how to nest properly. Still, that’s really not why he couldn’t sleep.

"Oh dear me, I really have forgotten everything haven't I?" Mymble laughs, easy intonation contrasting with her words, as though she isn't the one who has been consistently taking Snufkin's fragile sense of comfort and knowledge and crushing it under her boot. "No worries, I came prepared."

She gestures to the cotton bag, putting her tea down and moving to sit on the edge of the sofa. Snufkin copies her movements, as best as he can, hindered slightly by his bump, but he manages.

"I made a couple of them myself, when I had the time, and the others are ones my mother made for me when I fell pregnant the first time. Consider these hand-me-downs as family heirlooms," inside the bag are a multitude of multicoloured blankets, some knitted, some patchwork, a couple faded and threadbare but unbelievably soft. “I’ve had a lot of these saved up for when one of you had children, and this isn’t all of them, but it is most of them.”

Snufkin doesn’t know what to say besides a quiet thank you, pulling out a thin cotton blanket with flowers embroidered lovingly over the fabric. They smell like his childhood, and feel just as nostalgic, and he can feel his eyes begin to tear up. Mymble has a strange expression on her face too, as she watches him hold the blanket up to his face, a hand coming to rest gently on his elbow in silent comfort.

“Shall I show you how to arrange them best?” She asks softly, encouraging the warmth in Snufkin’s chest to spread out to his extremities. “It took me a while to find the way I liked it best.”

“Yes please,” he responds, putting the blanket back in the bag and standing with her help. “I’d appreciate that a lot.”

* * *

 

Mymble doesn’t question him when he returns from the spare bedroom with the blankets he’d used the night before, looking around the large master bedroom with an all-too knowing look. “It’s spacious.”

“That’s what I said,” Snufkin chuckles quietly, dumping the blankets onto the bed unceremoniously as he moves to stand next to his mother in front of the ottoman at the end of the bed. “But it does doubles as a study and a hobby room.” He gestures at the desk and easel on either side of the window, a crib placed under it just like the one sat in the living room, waiting to be used.

“Well, I’m sure Moomintroll will fill it with things,” she hums, taking the first blanket and folding it over her arm. “Moomins tend to have lots of things.”

Well he knows that. Seems they might both know that from experience. Snufkin shrugs, copying her actions, slower and less experienced but not doing it badly. Once all of the blankets are folded over their arms, Mymble shows him how to arrange them in a way that encloses the person inside but doesn’t collapse, somehow weaving them together in an almost oval shape, the structure pretty sturdy.

“As long as it doesn’t fall apart, it’s a good nest,” she explains, watching as Snufkin lays down the central blankets carefully. “But what makes it better is warmth. Have you got hot water bottles?”

“Moominmamma has some back at Moominhouse, I think,” he says after a moment, warmth only making him think of Moomintroll, mind stuck on the thought of cuddling up to him in their nest, close and gentle. “She’ll probably let us borrow one or two.”

Mymble seems satisfied with his answer, piling the remaining blankets on the ottoman. “Well, let’s test it, with or without hot water bottles.”

She climbs onto the bed, and Snufkin raises an eyebrow. It feels a little odd, but the promise of closeness to another is undeniably welcome, even if that person isn’t Moomin. He follows her in, surprised by how different this nest feels compared to all the ones he and Moomin made these past few months. Maybe it’s the surplus of blankets, or maybe it’s the structure they have, but he feels safer in here, more comfortable and happy. They lay next to each other, Snufkin’s arms around his stomach and Mymble’s eyes far away.

"Seeing you pregnant and domestic reminds me of my first pregnancy," Mymble begins after a moment of silence. "How scared but excited I was. How my mother had nothing but endless advice for me. Makes me feel all broody."

Snufkin scoffs light-heartedly, offhandedly declaring that she already has enough children. "There's no use being broody, mother. You struggle with the children you already have as it is."

Mymble laughs. "Maybe I'll have to borrow my grandchildren every now and then instead."

He lets his mind wander, imagining all the time he and Moomin could spend together if their parents were looking after the children, and finds himself beginning to blush gently. Maybe Mymble would be happy to look after them during his heat this year. Snufkin thinks about asking now, but decides it's too soon. Besides, he still has to discuss how it's all going to go smoothly with Moomintroll. He inhales deeply, pushing it to the back of his mind for a later date.

After another moment of quiet, Mymble speaks up again. “When Mymble Jr. found Too-Ticky, I was so proud of her,” she muses out loud, voice much less excitable than usual, subdued almost. “To be in love is a wonderful thing, and for mymbles, it’s not really something we can live without.”

Snufkin wonders where she’s going with this, keeping quiet so she can elaborate. They never really have serious conversations, but this feels like a turning point.

“I was worried about you, in particular,” Mymble takes a hold of his hand on his stomach, meeting his eyes with more emotion and love than he’s ever seen from her before. Something about him being pregnant seems to have kicked both of his parents into actually parenting, and although it’s upsetting that it took something so extreme to do so, it’s better late than never. “So much like your father. I thought you might travel for the rest of your life, ignoring every love you experience until it's too late and they've found someone else, simply looking for a means to an end every heat. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course, but I feared the mymble part of you would hurt you eventually."

"... Aren't you worried about the others?"

"Of course, I'm a mother dear. But Mymble Jr. knows what she wants, and Little My is strong, and the others are too. You're strong too, but not in the same ways," he can tell she doesn't mean that to be an insult; there's a quiet understanding between the both of them in this moment that they've not really had before. "Companionship has always looked different for you than us, it's your mumrik side dear."

Snufkin rolls his eyes playfully, squeezing her hand as he shuffles a little to get comfier. "I could've told you that."

Mymble laughs quietly, and for a while, it's nice to just lay next to his mother, holding her hand and just enjoying the company in silence. How often has he had the chance to be close to her like this? Perhaps the last time was when he was a small toddler, tuckered out after playing with his sisters for too long, curled up into Mymble's side, grasping at the fabric of her dress in the way little ones do.

He begins to feel sleepy after a while, especially when Mymble starts stroking his hair, the comfort and sleep-deprivation soothing him enough for his eyes to begin to feel heavy.

"I'm so glad you found someone you'd let love you enough to properly mate you." She whispers, frowning when Snufkin's eyes snap open to look at her.

"What do you mean?" Maybe he's overreacting, but something about the way she says 'properly' makes his heart begin to race. Is there more to it all?

Mymble sits up a little as she begins to explain, gauging his reactions almost studiously. "Well, you have to be willing to be loved, and receive that love in turn, to be truly mated," her voice is still quiet but she could be shouting, the words not quite hitting Snufkin yet, but loud in their intensity. "I thought I told you that?"

Snufkin thinks he'd like to use one of those nasty curse words Moomin seems fond of whenever he drops something on his feet. "It's just… It's not… That doesn't sound plausible."

"That's how it's been for generations, Snufkin. My mother explained it to me when I was young. It's a curse on our species, placed upon us by an ancient witch that felt scorned by a mymble that only pretended to reciprocate her love. And so, she could never have children until she was loved and could love in return, to teach her a lesson about the importance of love, the effects it has on the emotions," she must be able to sense Snufkin's doubt and rising disbelief, because she tuts softly and tucks his hair behind his ear. "It's true. We can only become pregnant through a true love bond."

A true love bond. What on earth is that supposed to mean? How much does he even believe that lore, when he's never heard of it before now?

But what reason would Mymble have to lie about that? She is a rather scatter-brained individual, and he knows from first hand experience that this isn't the first time she's forgotten to tell her children something of such great importance.

But… If that's true then that could only mean…

"Moomintroll loves me." Snufkin's voice sounds soft, cracking quietly with the emotion flooding him. His words sound reverent and full of awed shock, but by god is there fear there too.

The words swirl around his head like water down a flood drain, ever spinning and moving and changing, strong and fluid. Moomintroll loves him. Moomin loves Snufkin. They love each other. He feels sick but it's not bad, far from it. His heart races and his hands feel sweaty and he feels torn in half and stitched together uncomfortably.

"Well of course he does dear, has he not told you? You've been together for months now, I'd have thought you knew." Mymble laughs, clearly joking, but Snufkin barely hears her, mind elsewhere.

He's not sure he believes it. Not one hundred percent. Perhaps the love doesn't have to be romantic. Maybe their platonic love for each other is just so strong that it fooled the witch's curse into thinking they were in love. But maybe… Just maybe, his love might be reciprocated.

… In which case, what happens now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! i can see the finish line lol
> 
> okay, ya bitch is technically on holiday now (as in my family's holiday plans start tomorrow morning and then im away for a week from saturday), and i won't be back until september
> 
> in other words, it's unlikely ill be updating between now and the start of september! just thought id let you guys know beforehand (also ill probs either reply to comments in the car on the way there on saturday or when i come home the saturday after, sorry its taking me ages to reply but i appreciate every single one!)
> 
> anyway, with that over, WHEW WHAT A CHAP
> 
> are we finally getting somewhere? did snufkin just gain some common sense? *looks at the number of chaps left* oh, no
> 
> see yall in september! (altho u can follow me on tumblr on the same username, ill still be posting on there occasionally)


	23. 3rd Trimester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Snufkin considers his options

When Mymble left, Snufkin stayed curled up in the nest they made, mind almost catatonic with thoughts of love and wasted time and heartache and doubt.

Being pregnant whilst having such a mind malfunction really isn't helping; he's cried, he's laughed, he's stared blankly at the wall opposite him. Snufkin can't count the emotions he's been through in the past… Afternoon, too overcome with realisations and rationalisations and desperation to have a single coherent thought.

Moomintroll loves him.

Of course, to some extent, Snufkin has known this for years. They're best friends, have been since they were younglings, and their friendship has always been a warm light, greeting Snufkin in the Spring as he returned from his Winter travels. So he knows Moomin loves him, has loved him since the beginning.

But what he doesn't know is the nature of that love. It's definitely platonic, either mostly or wholly. Would that be enough to fool a witch's curse?  


Perhaps, if Snufkin were to be extremely kind to himself, he'd decide that Moomin's love for him is unconditional, because after all this time, and all the things they've done together, the troll hasn't strayed far from his side, no matter what. And Snufkin believes that maybe, it's quite likely the witch's curse would be pleased by a love like that.

There's no need for romance, not really.

Only, it's what Snufkin yearns for, what he desires more than just companionship, more than just being the closest of friends. And worst of all, he doesn't know why it makes a difference!

Romance has never been something Snufkin has prioritised for himself. It's not even something he thought he'd want (before he fell in love with Moomin, that is). It isn't more important than any other kind of love, shouldn't precede over other relationships; being best friends with someone should be just as important as being in love. Snufkin might even argue more important.

Why, then, does his heart ache when he thinks of how, even knowing his best friend loves him, it's not romance? Shouldn't he be happy, or even grateful, that he's lucky enough to experience even a modicum of Moomintroll's love, even if it isn't the kind he wants?

There's a kick against where his hand idly rubs his stomach when he sighs loudly, and he smiles despite his racing thoughts. Love. Their children are the byproduct of their  _ love _ for each other. It doesn't matter how that love manifests itself, not with such wonderful outcomes; their babies, their home, their closeness.

"Daddy's okay, little ones..." he hums gently, hiding his face in Moomintroll's pillow and breathing in his scent for a moment. "Love…"

* * *

 

"-kin, Snufkin," a voice pulls him from his slumber, gentle and caring. "Dinner is ready."

Snufkin rubs his eyes with his fists, stretching out his legs; he must've fallen asleep as he was thinking about what to do next. Moomintroll is leaning over him with a look on his face that suggests either Snufkin was mumbling in his sleep, or doing something else just as embarrassing, his eyes soft and warm, a small grin spreading across his mouth.

His left paw is gripped tight in Snufkin's hands, his right paw carding gently through his hair. Oh. He must've grabbed him as he tried to wake him.

But Moomintroll doesn't stop playing with his hair, so he doesn't let go, enjoying the closeness and the way it makes him feel all warm and gooey inside. That's love, surely.

He could ask now. Really, what harm would it do? 'Do you love me?' Snufkin could say, brave and yet compassionate, silently pleading with his eyes that the troll say yes. Or he could admit to loving him himself, say those three words that mean both everything and nothing depending on how they're taken.

Instead, he smiles at him when his eyes begin to search Snufkin's for an explanation for the current situation, moving to sit up with the troll's help. "Sorry, I hadn't meant to take a nap, but this nest is so comfortable."

Moomin laughs, holding onto his hands as Snufkin stands and yawns. "It looks it. Did Mymble give us more blankets?" He gestures to the pile of spares on the ottoman when Snufkin manages to steady himself.

"Mhmm. I'm starving."

* * *

 

The stew tastes just as good reheated as it did fresh last night, and Snufkin even manages to have seconds before he begins to feel too full to move for a week. Moomintroll laughs good-naturedly when he expresses as such, offhandedly commenting that he doesn't mind carrying Snufkin anywhere he needs to go.

Snufkin regrets leaving his hat in the porch now, a blush spreading across his cheeks quickly, and with no way to hide it, it just gets worse. He probably looks like a tomato.

"Did you know Little My and Snorkmaiden are a thing?" Moomin starts to say as he tidies away their dinner mess (but only because Snufkin reminded him that they'll need their bowls for breakfast in the morning), voice not carrying too well as he faces away from the other. "Or, well, might be in the future."

He frowns a little, following a crack on the dining table with his finger absently. "Yes, My told me the other day that… They were waiting for Snorkmaiden to be ready for a relationship, but didn't deny it when I teased her about their relationship. Why?"

"Snorkmaiden was telling me about it today," Moomin explains, drying the last spoon and placing it in the drawer before leaning back against the counter in the same way Mamma had last night. “Making it sound so easy to just… Talk and come to an arrangement and wait.”

Refusing to meet his eyes, Snufkin averts his attention back to the table, thinking.

There’s a depth to that statement that would’ve fallen on deaf ears if he and Mymble hadn’t spoken today. It is easy, even for them. Has he forgotten how easily they both fell into faking a relationship in front of everyone else? But then…

“It isn’t… For you?”

Moomintroll shrugs, a small, kind of sad smile replacing the open expression he had just now, and it’s like the conversation just shut down. “It doesn’t matter. I’m sure they’ll be happy together anyway.”

* * *

 

As Snufkin readies himself for bed later, the babies wake up. Rolling his eyes, he finishes brushing his teeth before walking back to the bedroom, one hand on his stomach the other on the small of his back. “They’re energetic tonight,” he begins, when Moomin tilts his head in question at the way the other is supporting himself. “Perhaps if their Pappa tells them a story, they might go back to sleep.”

Moomin chuckles lightly, the weird atmosphere after dinner gone now. He helps Snufkin into the nest, arranging the blankets around them in a more concave way than Mymble had. “How many feet can you feel?”

“Well there’s four very persistent limbs kicking and punching at my ribs, I think,” Snufkin gestures vaguely at his ribs, laughing when Moomin’s paw gets kicked as he places it gently down. “And then a foot pressing against my bladder. So at least five.”

The troll’s other paw comes to rest a bit further down, and a less fierce push responds, and they both smile at each other warmly. There’s something magical about feeling their children move around, tangibly, and Snufkin really enjoys the way it never fails to bring him and Moomintroll closer. “I think someone is going to be a little terror,” he whispers conspiratorially towards the babies, grinning wider when there’s another kick against his other paw, almost as if in agreement. “Okay, I’ll tell you both a story if you promise to calm down.”

Snufkin pulls Moomin’s pillow close to his chest, hugging it tightly and resting his head on the top of it as the other sits back (paws still on his bump), preparing to tell a story. The mumrik zones out as he tells his story, mind slipping back to his dilemma.

Somehow, he thinks he might be able to accept a lack of romance if it means their love is strong enough to be noticed by a witch’s curse he wasn’t even aware of. Perhaps they can forgo the romance and just stick to friendly devotion.

There’s certainly nothing ‘friendly’ about the way they derive carnal pleasure from each other though, no excuse for doing the things they do behind closed doors (and against them).  


Stupid.

Snufkin decides, rather stubbornly, that he won’t bring it up anytime soon. It’s not the kind of thing he wants to talk about before the babies are born, nor does he want to take the risk of being wildly wrong and upsetting or disgusting Moomin. No, it’s safer if he keeps it to himself for now.

Moomin looks up at him for a while, studying the way he stares off into space, knuckles white from how hard he’s clenching the pillow in his hands. Snufkin relaxes when he notices, but he knows it’s too late to not let the other worry.

And when the moomin falls asleep, one of his arms acting as Snufkin’s pillow and the other wrapped loosely around his chest from behind, the mumrik thinks he could just live like this forever, not telling him about the curse or love or his worries. Never quite knowing, but hopeful.

After all, what Moomintroll doesn’t know won’t hurt him. And what Snufkin doesn’t think about can’t hurt him either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM NOT ON HOLIDAY YET SO I CAN STILL POST SHHHH
> 
> although im still not replying to comments yet (thing for the car journey) but i just.... love you all so much
> 
> also this chapter is dedicated to someone special (@moomroll on tumblr, i hope the angst hasnt killed you yet dear) both a huge inspiration and support but a good distraction too (not a bad thing! its nice cause lord knows i need to stop writing all the goddamn time), um but im too embarrassed to say more hjvffkjnvdf (love you jdjksdcn) /////w\\\\\\\\\
> 
> CALM BEFORE THE STORM THAT'S ALL IM SAYING BUT YOU ALL GOTTA WAIT TIL SEPTEMBER NOW JNFFEVJNKV (also slipped two more smut chapters into the plan, hence why it now says 30 chapters instead of 28 hehe ;p)


	24. 3rd Trimester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein arguments are had

A week passes, then two, and steadily, Snufkin starts to struggle with compartmentalising the fact that the babies are due any time now. He thinks Moomintroll has noticed (although he'd be upset if he hadn't so it's not such a bad thing) and it's only made him dote harder.

Perhaps if Snufkin was someone else, it'd be comforting. Instead, it drives him mad. He feels bad, ungrateful even, every time the troll does something that makes him seethe when it should soothe him, but he can't control the frustration building in his chest. Oppressive and thick, it's somehow worse than the sexual tension they had all that time ago.   


And he's so scared, every kick making his heart leap and every slight ache in his abdomen making him panic, and Moomintroll's overbearing kindness only makes it worse because  _ he  _ panics too.

It's irrational, both the panic and the anger; as long as his waters haven't broken then there's no birth happening yet, and he knows he should appreciate the care and attention Moomin is giving to him. But how can he, when his arms feel like a cage when he's sleeping, his gaze a tractor beam holding him down, his gentle words a stifling ball of cotton drying out his mouth and choking him.

In any other situation, Snufkin would like it (he's always been starved for comfort and attention from the troll, even if he hates the thought of receiving that from anyone else), and he'd probably even reciprocate. However, with thoughts of love still floating around his head, no matter how often he tries to get rid of them, and the constant hyper-awareness of every movement of the babies, it's just too much.

He can't not overanalyse everything the moomin does, searching for even the slightest hint that, yes, he really does love him, but he's tired of it. Tired of finding nothing and everything and not being able to just ask because he's too afraid of ruining everything if he's wrong.

Watching as Moomintroll rushes around the kitchen almost frantically, just making Snufkin a cup of tea, he sighs. This is ridiculous. He's going to say something.

"You're being overbearing."

_ Shit _ . Wrong thing to say. Almost like he's watching himself from an outside perspective, he experiences the words from a distance, incapable of changing them, only able to sit back and watch their ugliness unfurl.

It's too harsh, not at all what he meant to say (but it is definitely what he  _ wanted _ to say, and that's a problem in and of itself). Moomin freezes, spoon lifted out of the cup almost with picture perfect poise.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Moomin. Why are you fretting about a cup of tea?" The tone of incredulity in his voice is so foreign to him, but he's already thrown the towel in, might as well go the whole mile. "It's too much, just calm down."

"I'm just making you a cup of  _ tea _ ," the moomin gives him a disbelieving look, brows furrowed close together and eyes narrowed. "There's no need to be so rude."

"Rude? Seriously?" Snufkin stands up with difficulty, but he can feel himself begin to seethe. " _ I'm _ just stating a fact."

"No you're being argumentative." His paws are on his hips, a taunt faint but still noticeable in his words, and Snufkin's hackles rise.

"Am I now? Are you sure about that? Because I can  _ show  _ you argumentative!" There's a voice in the back of his head telling him to stop, but weeks of feeling cooped up in one place with so many thoughts warring inside of him, and the terror of birth looming over his head, push hard at his throat to escape, and he can't resist. "This house? This little fake relationship we have? It's all  _ bullshit _ ." He punctuates the last word with a finger against the other's chest, accusatory and pointed.

Moomintroll physically recoils at his use of a swear word, shock clear in the way his face drops. "Bullshit?  _ Bullshit _ ? The house?"

"Yeah," he wants to cringe, wants to apologise, but it needs to be said. "Why build it? To keep up appearances? I don't hate it, I quite like it now it has things in it, but it doesn't mean  _ anything _ . God, you're my best friend but I swear I never know what you're thinking anymore. Is it just for the kids? For you? For me but just so you can smother me? You don't tell me anything anymore."

The fact that the relationship act isn't brought up barely registers with him besides a brief feeling of relief at avoiding that particular mess for now.

"Well that's not fair at all.  _ You _ never say what you actually want, it's always what you think  _ I  _ want! How was I to know any of that if you won't tell me because you… Well I don't even know why! But you know what I do know? I could  _ tell _ you didn't like the house when you first stepped in here, but instead of telling me that, so we could find a way to fix that, you let it fester and now, everyday we spend here, I think about how you feel uncomfortable in the house I built for you and our children, and it hurts me Snufkin!" Moomintroll's paws are curled up into fists at his sides, and Snufkin can see the way his claws dig into the flesh of his palms. But in this moment, he finds that to be the least of his worries.

"Me? Oh Moomintroll, you're such a hypocrite! I'm definitely not the only one keeping my feelings to myself!" He doesn't want to shout, but he's hot, tired and uncomfortable (and hormonal), and Moomin's words cut deep and leave him feeling chilled, somewhere in between angry and terrified. "Don't think for a second that I don't see the way you hesitate before saying certain things, the way you always look like there's something on your mind that you can't declare, the way your whole mood drops at one unexpected mention of Snorkmaiden!"

The troll scoffs, the sound harsh and cold and uncharacteristic. "Really? You're bringing up  _ Snorkmaiden _ ?" If Snufkin had his wits about him, the avoidance of the other topics would be incredibly telling. Instead, in his anger-riddled mind, everything else slips away, and a fierce jealousy claims his common sense. "That's low for you."

"Yes. Because you broke up with her ages ago and yet you still get upset over her," Snufkin hisses through gritted teeth, and he's momentarily reminded of when Moomin first told him he'd broken up with the snork, the argument so different yet so similar. "I don't get it!"

There's a moment of silence as everything sinks in. "Have you ever truly loved  _ anyone _ , Snufkin?" Moomintroll asks unkindly with an edge to his voice and a glimpse of bared teeth in his snarl. He doesn't give the mumrik a chance to actually understand his words before continuing. "You don't just 'get over' a past relationship, especially not one that's lasted years, in a few months. Not that you'd understand. You're too detached."

"... You don't mean that." Snufkin's voices breaks as he steps back a little, physically recoiling. A flash of sympathetic regret appears in the other's eyes momentarily before it disappears, back to a heated glare.   


"Maybe not. But this would have been so much easier if you were more open, and you  _ know _ that. I mean, we skirt around our problems like we might explode if we even start to think about them, putting a plaster over a festering wound; it's just not  _ working _ like that."

"Well what would you rather? Complete honesty? Okay fine. Ever since I came back this Winter, it's like our friendship completely shifted. No, ever since that day in the cave. And you  _ promised me _ that nothing would change! I don't even know how close we can actually say we are when everything feels like we're treading on eggshells all the time!"

"At least I tried! You just avoided me! It feels the same way now, just not physically but emotionally!"

Snufkin exclaims dramatically, pacing around the living room as the other steps out of the kitchen. There might be tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, but he refuses to back (or break) down. "We've already been over this, I was ashamed, Moomintroll! And you were acting different too, like you are now, and it scares me! Of course I've pulled away!"

The other just looks away, eyes seeming to land on the mermaid carving, sitting unassumingly on the shelf. Nothing about his stature softens. "Well I'm not the only one that's acting different."

"That's not fair, I'm pregnant." Snufkin says pointedly, almost spitting out the last word, and the tension in the room rises.

"And that's what changed us both, Snufkin. This, us, the house. It's all because of that night in the cave. And I don't regret it at all, don't regret mating you, because you're my  _ best friend _ and I hate to think of you with some random strangers who don't care about you in the slightest! What if you were pregnant with one of their children instead? I'd blame myself for putting you through that."

Heat blooms in his chest, not anger but something akin to it. "Well you're the only one that succeeded in mating me, so I guess you got what you wanted."

"Did I say that?"

"So you don't want this?"

Snufkin knows he's being purposefully pedantic, pushing the other's buttons to see how far he can push him before he snaps, but he doesn't even know why he wants that. Destructive, he thinks, feeling the way his brain sings with joy when the moomin has to visibly stop himself from… Doing something.

"Of course I do, now we have it. Did I  _ plan  _ to get you pregnant? Of course not. Is it a happy accident? Yes," Moomintroll's voice sounds hard, as if he isn't saying what he wants to, and Snufkin finds the irony painful. "You seriously have to ask?"

They stare each other down for much longer than necessary, before things get anymore heated. Their first domestic. It feels like a milestone.

"Maybe I wouldn't have to ask if you were honest."

"Ugh," Moomin rolls his eyes, arms extended at his sides in some kind of exasperated gesture. He looks a little ridiculous, but it just riles Snufkin up more. "Seriously? Back to that again? Has someone said something to you that makes you think I'm holding something back?"

His words hit the nail on the head, he thinks, but keeps his composure. He will  _ not _ confess during an argument. "No. Nothing. Maybe that's the problem. Because I'm the only one that's noticed, and it's making me doubt everything!"

"Well of course you're the only one who's noticed! We're play acting a relationship we're going to be expected to be in for the rest of our lives!" Moomin seems to be growing more and more exasperated, as if everything he's saying is obvious (which it is) and that Snufkin should already know these things (he does). "If people had noticed we weren't being honest, it'd all be for nothing!"

"So the sex and the touching and the kissing and the care, that's all part of the act too?" Snufkin asks, voice taking on a sarcastic tone. But deep down, he feels insecure even asking. What if Moomin says yes? That'd devastate him. But if he says no…

Something about what he just said seems to have shocked the troll, exasperation fading away fast to be replaced with something still angry but not destructive. "... No. It isn't part of the act at all. I care about you, Snufkin, a whole lot. And I enjoy feeling you close, and I love… To make you feel good. And the sex is amazing. That's all real."

Snufkin's breath comes out stuttering, too much of a long pause after the L word for him to not fixate on it, on the distant mistiness in the other's eyes, of the way he seems to deflect, chuckling nervously after he finishes speaking. Turning point. "What have we become?"

He thinks he feels sadness under the anger, a deep longing for the way they used to be together, carefree and happy. Their eyes meet, and it's like the heat switches.

"I think we may have lost ourselves somewhere along the way," Moomin admits, voice still hard but eyes soft, and although the part of him that wanted to destroy sighs in defeat, the rest of him sings in elation. They aren't ruined. Moomintroll still cares about him, their differences aren't widening the chasm they've created. Now they just need a bridge to cross it. Meet halfway. "But when we feel calmer, we should talk all of these things through."

Snufkin nods, visualising the bridge slowly coming to fruition. An idea slips into his mind, chaotic energy still coursing through his veins like fire in his blood, and he can tell Moomin has that energy still too. His fingers itch to feel, to scrunch into something, and the bedsheets sound like the perfect victim. "I know a way we can calm down…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im back yall!
> 
> im sorry firstly for taking so long to reply to all your comments, but i finally did it. i swore to myself i wouldnt post another chapter until id replied so...yeah
> 
> i know i said id reply when i was on holiday but it was hard to even gather the spoons to think about replying. sorry. ive done it now though!
> 
> secondly sorry for making you all wait til september but 1 i hope this chapter made up for it in angst value and 2 the promise of the next chapter makes up for all the angst
> 
> this really was the climax of the tension. for now jkndnjkcd but i dont think there is much more angst from now, other than the usual snufkin being an airhead and moomin repressing everything, so if you were all biting your nails and putting off reading til now (looking at you, you know who) then you can continue reading now knowing this is the height of the angst
> 
> ^^ i loved writing this conflict more than i care to admit, although im a little airheaded myself so i hope it makes sense at least somewhat
> 
> also im a mess, did yall know?
> 
> anyway, thank you all for commenting despite my lack of interaction!
> 
> also also, quick disclaimer, im going back to college on the 10th, so im hoping to get as much of this finished as i can before then, but updates will be a lot slower after the 9th, just so you're all aware
> 
> thank you! hope you're all doing well :3


	25. 3rd Trimester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein post-argument sex is had because these boys are messy af

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woop! smut chapter hell yeah
> 
> and yup, u guessed, announcement in end notes 🙄

Moomintroll had been just as eager to 'fuck it out' (so vulgar) as Snufkin had been to suggest it, racing ahead of the other up the stairs to… Sort out the bed perhaps? He doesn’t know, following as quickly as he can.   


Is he still angry? A little bit, he admits, taking note of how his hands tremble and his breath comes out hot and fast. None of their arguments were resolved, and it all still boils freshly in his mind, but Snufkin knows it’ll be better to talk it all out once they’ve calmed down.   


Still, the anger is overwhelming, but it does feel a lot like the desperate itching ache he gets when far too pent up as well, and it’s not hard to flick the switch on it to something more anticipatory than destructive.

Snufkin is definitely too heavily pregnant for rough paced, harsh post-argument sex, and he knows Moomin thought the same thing when he walks into the bedroom and the curtains are shut, nest nicely rearranged in a way that looks somewhat suspiciously like a heart (he doesn’t mention it, but his blush probably does that enough for him). Maybe it’d be romantic, if it wasn't for the way the other also is still clearly thrumming with frustration.

He doesn’t really know where to take this, does he just start taking off his clothes? They’ve had sex plenty enough now that this really shouldn’t be an issue.

It's just that, well, he was expecting less sweetness this time. It's not a bad thing.

"Um… If you get on your hands and knees, the babies won't be in the way…?" Moomin says, and he seems weirdly nervous but also impatient, his eyes roving down Snufkin's body appreciatively, and he feels hot under his scrutiny.

"Sure." Ignoring his whole body flush, the mumrik pulls off his shirt and trousers and climbs into the nest, propping himself up on his elbows and knees. It's not comfortable at all, the weight of his bump making his back ache, but Moomin's paws push his thighs apart with a silent demand and any discomfort flees his mind.

His underwear feels uncomfortably tight, in fact Snufkin thinks he won't feel comfortable until the other is nestled deeply inside of him, skin crawling and hair on end, entrance pulsing with heat and he hasn't even been touched yet. Does Moomin feel as desperate? Is his cock aching to slip into him in the same way Snufkin aches to be filled?   


He thinks anger makes for good foreplay.

Moomintroll helps him out of his underwear, one paw pulling the fabric off his ankles and the other resting on his rear, claws extended only enough to scratch lightly. There's a tut as he slides a finger through Snufkin's heat, collecting slick in the fur of his digit with a wet sound. "Oh Snufkin, we should rile you up more often," his middle finger pushes inside of him, easier than usual, barely even stretching him, and he blushes harder. "You were only wetter than this on your heat."

It's said with a teasing tone, the snarl still audible in his voice if Snufkin listens carefully, and the seething anger resurfaces. “That wasn't even a proper- ah- heat," he gasps out, hands slipping a little in the blankets as Moomin’s finger rubs against a particularly sensitive area, back arched even more uncomfortably now. “I can get wetter than that.”

He hears a sharp inhale from behind and grins, trying to spread his thighs wider to show off for the troll. A second finger slides in alongside the first, and of course it’s still not enough, but his fingers clench into the blankets and it feels good to have somewhere to translate all the destructive energy. Distantly he wishes the argument could've happened after the children have been born (plus recovery time) so they could just be as rough as they want, they'd have no need to be gentle still.

"Is that even possible?" Moomin leans over him, nudging his snout against Snufkin's neck, his voice whisper quiet and hoarse. "You soaked through your trousers that night."

His nails leave small holes in the knitwork of the blanket between his fists, a gush of slick surrounding the other's fingers with almost comedic timing. "Guess you'll have to find out this Winter." He replies, voice similarly quiet, and teasing.

Moomintroll takes his fingers out of him, Snufkin's wetness following and cooling on his inner thighs uncomfortably. "I suppose so. Usually I hate the thought of Winter arriving…" Turning to look behind him, Snufkin watches as the troll uses his slick to lube his cock, and his mind goes blank. "But now I think it can't come sooner."

His words should annoy him, should make him want to argue more, but desperate and thrumming with energy, he can't help but agree. The thought of spending his heat with the one he loves (and who may love him back, but he's not dwelling on that) makes him salivate, crave the short release before the heat starts back up again, yearn for the closeness. Not that they can't have that now, but at least on his heat he has a good excuse.

The head of his cock presses insistently against his entrance, but Snufkin suddenly finds he can’t stay in this position any longer, his back twinging uncomfortably and his arms shaking from the effort of holding himself up. “I can’t… Not in this position.”

“Okay,” Moomin sighs but moves back, and Snufkin narrows his eyes at him. “What?”

“Why did you sigh?” The mumrik asks with an accusatory tone, kneeling up and turning around. “Sorry if this is annoying but it’s your fault.”

The other must be calming down a little, because he just laughs, helping Snufkin to lie down on his side before laying down behind him, propped up on his elbow to lean over his face. “It takes two to tango,  _ princess _ .”

Snufkin flushes deeply, from his ears to his chest, choking on his next inhale at the nickname. He has no idea where it came from but beside the shock of humiliation, it warms something in his gut and he can’t help but shudder. He opens his mouth to respond but he can’t think of anything, closing it promptly and opting to hide his face in the closest pillow as the other chuckles and lifts one of his legs to rest over the troll’s thighs. It doesn’t seem like it gives him much room to slip inside, but his paw grips onto his thigh tightly and it’s comfortable for Snufkin, so he isn’t about to suggest another position.

“Ready?” Moomin asks, and Snufkin feels like kicking him. Of course he’s ready, if only he’d hurry up! But thankfully he doesn’t have to wait for long, the moomin positioning his cock back at Snufkin’s hole, slipping a little in his slick before the head breaches him slowly.

And god, the mumrik really doesn't want it slow, but the stretch feels like heaven, and who is he to argue against that? Snufkin bites into the pillow as Moomin's cock rubs against his walls, forcing him open deliciously until the beginning of his knot rests against the mumrik's entrance. His knuckles are white from where he grips the pillow so tightly, eyes half-lidded.

Somehow, despite their argument being poignantly fresh in his mind still, it feels a whole lot more intimate to be having sex here, now. In  _ their _ nest, on  _ their _ bed, in  _ their _ bedroom, in  _ their _ house, with  _ their  _ curtains shut and  _ their _ lights off. Because before, it was  _ a  _ cave,  _ Moomin's _ bedroom, not their house, a glade. There's no chance of anyone walking in on this, not a semblance of not belonging, only them in what is theirs.

He almost forgets to still be angry, until he hears the other grunt lowly before pulling out and pushing back in with more force than probably necessary. If Snufkin cries out loudly, there's no one else to hear it but Moomin, and maybe the house has many more advantages that he hadn't considered yet.

He feels too hot, too tightly-wound, like any second he could snap, but he's too pregnant for that to be actually promising, and he's mostly helpless to the pleasure and electricity coursing through his veins as Moomintroll releases his own pent up frustration on him. It feels  _ good _ though, in the way their gentle intimacy rarely does, claws like pinpricks in the sensitive flesh of his thigh held up in the air, ass rubbing against sticky fur obscenely, hot breath against his neck.

Snufkin can feel every curve and vein on the other’s dick if he focuses, clenching tightly every time he pulls out and pushing his hips back every time he pushes in. The pillow is wet where he’s biting it, drool spilling from his lips almost uncontrollably, brain fuzzy with anger and pleasure and warmth. What was he angry about?

His thighs quiver with the pleasure, one of his hands fisting into his hair instead of the pillow, just to try and get a grip on reality. It doesn't really work, messy gasps spilling from his lips, Moomintroll's name like a mantra in his throat. The moomin responds in kind, utterances of his own name hot and thick against his neck.   


Occasionally, he'll feel his orgasm approaching, tumultuous and simmering, before it settles, too tense to let go but desperate for it nonetheless. And Snufkin can feel, in every thrust barely controlled, that Moomin is in the same predicament.   


"D-don't hold back," Snufkin moans out, ignoring the way the other inhales sharply. "I can take… It."

"... Are you sure?" Moomintroll asks, not even moving anymore, and the mumrik has to bite his lip to stop himself from starting another argument.   


Instead, he rolls his hips back, the movement sudden and obvious in its intentions. "Yes I'm sure." The words are short and clipped but he's too desperate to care.

Without another word (probably holding back some scathing remark just as Snufkin had), Moomin resumes pounding into him, force multiplied and claws digging into his thigh harder. Where his pleasure was stormy and hot before, it almost feels painful now, intense on a level he doesn't often feel outside of his heats, churning in his stomach and whiting out his vision.

Moomin's knot presses insistently against where they join, begging to tie them together, and under any other circumstances, Snufkin would be begging too. But he's almost 9 months along now and it'd be unfortunate… To be connected in such a way should he go into labour. Besides, they have plenty more time after the pregnancy to get knotted. Snufkin is a little surprised he even has enough coherent thought left to think of that.

"Don't kn-knot me, not n-now-" he's cut off by a cry, the tip of Moomintroll's cock nudging roughly against where he's most sensitive. "N-next time..!"

The troll nods, nudging his hair in the process and causing it to fall into his face, keeping his thrusts mostly shallow as he speeds up, approaching orgasm.

It hits like a tidal wave of lava, scalding his muscles and melting him into a Snufkin-esque puddle. Every jolt of pleasure wracks his nerves for all the feeling they're worth, entrance clamping down tight on the shaft of Moomin's cock, coaxing him to the edge as well, the rest of him falling limp and jelly-like in the haziness of cumming.

He feels the other's cum coating his walls, and has a moment to enjoy both his pleasure and Moomintroll's, but then his stomach begins to cramp, the pain almost unbearable as his muscles spasm from the pleasure, and he immediately panics.

"M-Moomin!" There's still the breathy edge to his voice that's coated in a sickly sweet afterglow, but there's also undeniable shrillness that springs the other into action.

"Did your waters break? Oh god, how would we know?!" Obviously alluding to the fact that their combined release is wet and slippery enough that one wouldn't be able to tell the difference between ejaculate and slick or amniotic fluid. "Shit it's a good thing we aren't knotted!"

Moomin almost jumps off the bed, running into the bathroom to grab some towels as Snufkin tries (and fails) to sit up, instead rolling over onto his back and trying to remember how to breathe.

Slowly.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

What the mumrik doesn’t expect, is for the pain to stop almost comically, fading as quickly as it came, and distantly he remembers a page in Granny’s book dedicated to ‘practice contractions’, the body’s way of preparing for labour. Of course.

The troll rushes back in, but stops when Snufkin starts laughing, the sound breathless and more high pitched than usual. "What's… So funny?"

"The pain stopped, now I'm not cumming," It's almost hard to get the words out between the laughter, probably slightly hysterical from the panic and adrenaline. "And I'm pretty sure my waters haven't broken."

There’s a relieved sigh from Moomin as he sits next to Snufkin’s legs, a paw resting on his stomach. “Maybe no more sex until they’re born. That was too stressful.”

They laugh together, a couple of well placed kicks against their Pappa’s paw as though the children are joining in with them making them laugh harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof
> 
> anyway hey
> 
> i go back to college on monday, not tuesday now, and ive been highkey stressing out all week. im gonna take a break to get used to the new routine and being back in education, and dealing with existential crises needs all my distraction techniques in full force, so i wont be able to post for at least another week, possibly up to a month if i struggle as much as im expecting to.
> 
> this is also why this chapter has taken so long despite actually being short for most of my smuttier chapters
> 
> anyway, im almost done. finish line in sight, its just gonna take a while to get there.
> 
> lots of love to all of you! i hope going back to education/work or just your usual september is going well!


	26. 3rd Trimester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein talks are sort of had now they’re calmer

Snufkin estimates he has little over a fortnight left until the babies are born, although he still doesn’t want to admit that it could happen anytime now. Moomintroll, on the other hand, seems hellbent on making it the only topic they talk about.

Because of course, they still haven’t had those  _ talks _ they were going to have after their impromptu bed-christening, so of course, Moomintroll is going to have no idea that Snufkin finds that overwhelming. But how does he bring it up? How can he when he doesn’t even know what he wants Moomin to do about it?

He doesn’t want him to change; if he needs to worry about it all then Snufkin would prefer he feel comfortable to do so. Just not at the expense of his own comfort. He just doesn’t know how to say that in a way that won’t sound abrasive though, so he hasn’t.

“It’s not overkill to have a cot in the living room as well?” Moomin asks, fitting it together in the corner as Snufkin watches, legs propped up on the ottoman in front of him. His ankles have been aching and puffy for a few days and Mamma suggested keeping them elevated, but now his knees ache instead.

The cup of tea resting on the arm of the sofa wobbles a little as he pushes himself back into a more comfortable position, taking the pressure off of his knees. “No, I think it makes sense. If the babies are asleep but we’re downstairs, isn’t it better to have them closer?”

“True,” the troll hums, cussing as he drops a screw into his own mug. “Mymble wasn’t very helpful when I asked what we’d need.”

Snufkin laughs quietly, watching as Moomin fishes the screw out of his tea before standing to head into the kitchen, probably to get a towel. “Mother isn’t particularly the best person to go to for advice, unless she’s willing to bring over blankets. She’s a bit too air-headed.”

Moomin leans back so his head is in the doorway, a grin on his face. “Like you then.”

“Hey,” he pouts, crossing his arms. “That’s unfair.”

The moomin just laughs, continuing whatever he’s doing in the kitchen. There’s a small smile tugging on Snufkin’s lips as he lets their easy domesticity wash over him, trying not to let his doubts get the better of him right now.   


Part of him wonders if their argument was necessary sometimes; at night, when he can’t sleep, his mind usually wanders to that instead of anything else like it used to, and he’s stuck analysing every word he said (that he can remember, the red haze of anger around it makes a lot of it fuzzy). For sure, he was unnecessarily harsh, and Moomin’s words hurt too, and old wounds that he thought had closed keep seeming to want to reopen.

But… They wouldn’t have moments like now, joking and just being together in the same space easily, if they hadn’t had their argument. There’s very little tension now, and for the first time since moving in, it feels like the house  _ could  _ be a home. And that’s worth all the arguments needed to clear the air. Well, a healthy amount of them at least.

“Remind me to keep my drinks away from me when I’m working on stuff,” Moomin says as he puts his new mug next to Snufkin’s on the sofa before returning to the cot. He nods, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, trying to slip back into his thoughts. “Tired?”

The mumrik sighs softly, shaking his head. “No,” he thinks now would be a good time to talk, because they’re both calm and they have other things to do should they need a distraction. “We need to talk about the argument.”

“Oh.” Moomintroll murmurs, a soft clattering sound of wooden bars being placed on the floor loud in the otherwise quiet room.

“Well, more like the things we argued  _ about _ , because it’s important we talk…” Snufkin feels his confidence begin to slip, he doesn't even know where to start, but Moomin joins him on the sofa and he knows it won’t have a bad ending. “Um, so about the house.”

There isn’t going to be a resolution for Snufkin’s feeling of overwhelm when it comes to Moomintroll’s doting unless he brings up the subject of love, which he certainly isn’t doing today (will he ever?), so the house seems to be the next safest option. In fact, it might be the only safe option if he wants to avoid anything too risky. The troll has an open but distant look on his face when he opens his eyes to look at him, and guilt floods his every pore.

“I really do appreciate it, and all the hard work and careful thought you put into it, to make it ours and perfect for our children,” he begins, trying to think of how he can say what he needs to in a way that both makes sense and doesn’t seem dismissive. “I think it’s hard for me… To accept  _ places  _ as a home, because it isn’t really something I’ve had, or needed, before. Home is a  _ feeling  _ for me, but that feeling takes time to develop and as much as I do really like what you’ve built, it is just a building. We don’t have many memories here, when you aren’t here it feels empty, and as much as I want it to feel like home, it doesn’t. Not yet. But I shouldn’t have said what I said about it when we argued, because that was unfair of me.”

Moomin stays quiet, thinking over his words, and Snufkin feels his throat close up slowly. It’s truer than a lot of things he’s said the past few months, but it barely scratches the surface of their problems, the rest buried deep and inaccessible except for when blood is surging through his veins, deafening everything but his thoughts. “It was a little bit unfair of you, and it hurt,” honesty rings throughout the troll’s words too, loud and sharp but something Snufkin needs to hear. “But it was also unfair of me to expect you to be comfortable and feel at home straight away. I set expectations that were unrealistic and in the end it upset both of us. I guess some of what you said hurt because it was a bit too close to the truth? As much as I wanted to have your best interests in mind, maybe somewhere in my mind, it was an attempt to settle you down, which I know is and always has been the opposite of what you want. Building this was both as selfless an act as possible and selfish in the same amounts.”

His breathing doesn’t quite return to him, but he feels somewhat vindicated having his fears confirmed. “At least we’re both self aware?” They laugh quietly, Moomin asking for his drink and both of them taking a short tea break. “Thank you, for being honest. I know it’s hard for you to deal with how _ detached _ I can seem,” the troll winces almost unnoticeably when his own words are said back to him. “And I appreciate that, as my best friend, you just want to spend time with me. I just feel extra stuck right now because I can barely move, let alone take wanders through the forest so I don’t feel stifled. So compromise doesn’t really work in this situation, does it?”

“Not the kind of compromising we’ve been doing, where we don’t actually talk about it and just pretend we know what the other needs.” Moomin counters, a knowing look over his mug making it Snufkin’s turn to wince. They really have been going about all of this the wrong way.

“No. So how do we find a happy medium?” Snufkin asks, because he doesn’t know, and because if they don’t find one, he dreads to think of what it’ll do to their friendship. “I don’t think I’ll be able to leave for the Winter for a few years, especially if the babies don’t hibernate, because Mymble isn’t going to be here every year we need her to babysit, so I’ll have to do it on my own. And I’m going to feel trapped, that’s an inevitability, so we need to factor that in, because I don’t want you to blame yourself.”

Perhaps this is a bigger problem than he’d thought it would be, considering all the separate caveats to the issue. Snufkin wonders if maybe all the times he waved off the encroaching worry to deal with it at a later date were mistakes; something this all-encompassing should be given time to work it out. Not that they haven’t still got time, it’s still Summer and Winter is far away enough that it doesn’t seem scary. But they probably should’ve used the time they had before now to sort it out.

"You won't have to do it on your own. Little My doesn't hibernate very often, and you can wake me anytime you need to," he shakes his head when Snufkin begins to speak, wanting to tell him that he doesn't want to disturb his hibernation. "Firstly, if I'm going to be a good Pappa, the children come first. And secondly, I'm not just going to leave all the work to you, that's being a bad partner."

Snufkin's heart soars at the word 'partner', even though he knows Moomin means it in a different way to how he'd like to take it. Still, he must realise how that sounds, right?   


If the troll notices Snufkin's distraction, he doesn't mention it, reeling off a list of reasons why hibernation isn't really that necessary for him right now anyway, but he doesn't really hear much of it. Eventually they agree that their Winter plans from the other week, of Snufkin staying and then taking small trips after to give him a break would be best unless they can come up with something better in the meantime.

At least now Snufkin feels like he can tell Moomin when he's feeling too enclosed.

"I didn't know if you'd want to have a little garden?" Moomintroll says, just as the topic of enclosure is brought up, and at first Snufkin frowns, but the troll continues. "Not like a fenced in, closed off kind of thing, but just planting some fruit trees, and maybe some vegetables, and they can grow however they want. I just thought it might be nice to have something to do that's outside that isn't just wandering around? For when you feel trapped."

Thoughtful, of the troll, Snufkin thinks, mulling it over. He supposes it might be nice, having a more hands on hobby that he can do here other than playing his harmonica, and it's something he could do with the children when they're old enough. And there's something satisfying about the thought of knowing that he grew their food, the same way eating a fish stew with fish he caught is incredibly gratifying.

“That’d be nice.”

* * *

 

Snufkin decides to take a risk that night, one that he probably doesn’t really need to think about, but it occupies his mind for hours. Throughout dinner, when they sit closer than usual on the sofa, listening to the radio, and now, as Moomintroll leans over him, talking to the babies  _ again _ , soft whispers and laughter as he tells them about all the family they’re going to have to meet.

It’s such a small thing too, and not even something new. If Little My knew what he was thinking, she’d probably give him an exasperated look and call him a ‘dumb, oblivious idiot’, and he knows he’d deserve it.

Wouldn’t it be easier to do these things if they talk properly? Their talk about the house lifted so much confusion and miscommunication that he feels a little light-headed, and it’s great! But the terror of being wrong about the love they share is too vast to take that leap. For now, Snufkin is willing to take what he can get.

Moomintroll looks up to Snufkin when he starts talking about Joxter and his lazy, mischievous ways, and, throwing all caution to the wind, the mumrik leans down and presses a gentle kiss to his lips. It’s more intimate than the other kisses they’ve shared, usually preceded or followed by a sense of desperation and sexual energy. But this one feels soft, almost reverent, their bedroom quiet and dark, lit only by the gentle yellow light of Moomin’s bedside lamp.

It’s not quite a confession, nor is it much of anything substantial, but the way Moomin’s breath falters a little before he kisses back, the way his paws rest so carefully against the fabric of Snufkin’s night-robe, the way his own heart stutters when the kiss that had meant to be a small peck turns into a delicate yet prolonged closeness, all adds together to make this feel special.

They’re no closer to being honest about their situation, not really. Nonetheless, today feels like a step in the right direction.

And if they fall asleep holding hands over Snufkin’s baby bump, smiling like idiots, then it’s more than he could’ve ever asked for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOFT ;-;
> 
> hi, those of you who follow me on tumblr probs already know but i decided to leave college and go next year instead, because depression
> 
> 1\. that means more time for writing again  
> 2\. my mental health is fucked, so im technically still gonna take my time with updates  
> 3\. yay
> 
> pfft anyway i hope the fluff makes up for my absence uwu


	27. 3rd Trimester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein stuff happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for kind of graphic scene? I dont know how bad it actually is. But it's a birth scene, so it isn't wholly pleasant. Skip after Joxter leaves and return for the next chapter if you need to! :)
> 
> updated tags 8.10.19

“So, how have you two lovebirds been enjoying the solitude?” Joxter asks as Moomin exclaims in surprise when they wander down the stairs the next morning. The older Mumrik is sprawled comfortably over the back of their sofa, hat on the seat next to his head as though it fell off as he slept. Snufkin doesn’t want to know how long he’s been in their house. “Sorry, did I scare you?”

There’s no hint of remorse in his apology, a lazy grin spreading across his mouth as Moomintroll pointedly ignores him to head into the kitchen, leaving Snufkin to berate the other. “That was mean.”

“What? I simply greeted you both as you entered the room?” His legs swivel around with more grace than he should have to slide down onto the sofa seat, snatching his hat up smoothly and placing it on his head. “You look fit to burst.”

Snufkin bares his teeth at the other, surprising them both with his slight show of hostility, but after being surprised by his father’s presence and without the calming presence of his best friend, his comment sets him on edge. “I don’t think that’s very nice.”

Joxter sighs, patting the cushion next to him as if asking Snufkin to sit, and when the younger raises an eyebrow at him, he mutters a quiet apology, and then grins when he sits down carefully. “I just wanted to check in on you both. It’s been a while. Moominpappa told me I’d been neglecting my duties as a father and soon-to-be grandfather.”

They both cringe at the word grandfather, but Snufkin can tell there’s a lot more he isn’t saying. When Moomin slips back in with three cups of coffee, the room fills with silence.

“... Joxter sir, how did you get in?” Moomintroll asks, and it strikes Snufkin then that they’ve probably barely spoken to each other directly. His father chokes a little on his coffee at the word sir, and if he was in a better mood, he might have found it funny.

“Less of the sir, young Moomin,” Joxter warns not unkindly, placing his mug down before leaning back on the sofa. “Your door was locked so I picked it.”

Snufkin sighs exasperatedly, shaking his head at the predictable answer. “Father… That’s not polite. If you’d waited and knocked, we could’ve had coffee already prepared, and you wouldn’t have given Moomintroll a heart attack.”

He shrugs, and they let the silence return. It’s not wholly uncomfortable, but Moomin fidgets awkwardly in the chair, and Joxter has an unsettling gaze locked on the troll. Snufkin doesn’t think he even realises he’s doing it. When the coffee is gone, Moomin announces that he needs to ask Mamma for help regarding their garden, and pressing a light kiss to the top of Snufkin’s head, exits out of the porch with more haste than necessary (and if the mumrik’s cheeks and ears seem a little redder than they should, well, that’s none of his father’s business).

“I think I unnerved him.”

Snufkin sighs, adjusting in his seat to cross his legs beneath him. “You think?” He wouldn’t normally be so short with Joxter but he’d been hoping for a nice quiet morning with Moomintroll, and the other mumrik’s presence usually means chaos.

Joxter has the decency to at least look apologetic now, but he still has a small grin on his face. “You’re shaping up to be quite a good pair. How are you liking the home life?” He’s reminded of their conversation, many months ago, sitting on the river bank watching the fish swim past, about compromise and conversation and communication. The other must sense his hesitation to be honest, a gentle sigh leaving his lips. “I suppose we both struggled to actually put our advice to good use.”

Snufkin’s tempted to ask what he means, but he knows he’s talking about Pappa in relation to his problems, and he wonders if maybe that’s why his father has been distant again recently. “Well, what is a mumrik if not stubborn and set in our ways?”

It’s not true though, even in jest. Snufkin knows, because just yesterday he and Moomin made a whole lot of progress, and he even started it! Joxter laughs though, and nods, seemingly relaxed by his comment.

“You seem at ease though, Snufkin. It’s nice,” he smiles, and twirls his tobacco pipe between his fingers, something to fiddle with. “To see you both so comfortable together. Does he know it’s hard for you to be here?”

He nods, explaining their conversation from yesterday. Joxter seems surprised by Snufkin’s willingness to spend an entire Winter cooped up in the house, looking after the babies, but when an uncomfortable tension settles between them (mostly because Snufkin is incredibly tempted to make a short remark about their differences in parenting), he changes the subject. “Any day now, then, I suppose.”

Snufkin bites his lip and nods. “Yeah, any day now…” He thinks about how easily he wants it to go, about how long it might take, and decides there’s no point dwelling on it. “I suppose you don’t have much experience in this field.”

“Well, more than you’d expect,” Joxter frowns, clearly thinking of how quickly their conversation turned from amiable to difficult. “I was there with Mymble for a lot of her pregnancy. But I did miss the birth.”

More than the birth, Snufkin mentally retorts, crossing his arms awkwardly over his bump. “Yes I am aware of that.”

Joxter looks like he might either run or start an argument, so the other forces himself out of his seat (which is quickly getting harder the more he does it), and heads into the downstairs bathroom.

After using the toilet, Snufkin takes much too long to wash his hands, staring at the way his cheeks seem slightly puffier than usual, dark circles from months of restless nights making his eyes look sunken, and lips red from biting them anxiously. And he thinks about how empty he feels when he thinks of fatherhood, not because he doesn’t want it, but because his own father has never been there for him, and although he is here now, Snufkin finds little solace in it.

The towel feels rough against his scrubbed hands, and his eyes burn with tears. What would his life have been like if Joxter hadn’t been so distant? Would he have been happy with just having Joxter around a few times a year? What if his children have the same hang-ups about him that he has about his own father when he inevitably has to disappear every now and then?

Snufkin opens the door and decides, perhaps too impulsively, that he doesn’t want to spend much more time with Joxter, at least not on his own. It’s just making him feel way too emotional, and he doesn’t need help in that department. “Can you help me get to Moominhouse, I don’t want to be alone when you leave.”

If there’s hurt in the other’s eyes, it disappears as soon as it shows, and he nods as he stands, placing his hat on his head. “Sure.”

The walk through the woods is slow, as Snufkin’s back aches and his ankles hurt, and he can’t see the floor in front of him, but feels doubly as slow given the lack of easy conversation, his thinly veiled upset and Joxter’s emotional distance slowly increasing with every step they take, even if his arm is clenched tightly in Snufkin’s hand.

So when they arrive at the bridge across the stream, and Joxter bids Snufkin farewell and good luck with the birth before heading back into the woods, the sigh that leaves him is both thankful and final. He hopes his father will come back, once he has his own thoughts in order, but Snufkin really has no faith that he will.

* * *

 

He doesn’t quite know when he expected the babies to come, but Snufkin had somewhat hoped it wouldn’t be at night.

So much for hoping.

Thankfully, his waters break at the dinner table, and not when he's asleep, so although dark and somewhat additionally terrifying without the gentle chirping of the birds, the ensuing chaos doesn't feel quite as bad as it would if he was just waking up. Little My had been staying with them for the last week, so she could run and alert Mamma and Mymble when the time comes without Snufkin being left alone, and he's even more glad for that than he thought he would be.

At first, he doesn't really feel much too different to normal, especially since he’s been having contractions on and off every hour for a couple of days, but with the sudden rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins, and the panic flooding his mind, perhaps he just doesn’t notice the change.

Moomin helps him to his feet, worry bright in his eyes, but there's also excitement and a steely resolution there too, and if he looks on the bright side, at least the pain will be over in a day at most. Well, there’s the healing process after that, and possibly learning to breastfeed, and many sleepless nights, but he’ll be able to see his feet soon. That’s good.

“Breathe, in and out, nice and slow,” Moomintroll encourages gently, wincing only slightly when Snufkin grips onto his paws with a deathly tight strength as the first more painful contraction hits. “We can take our time.”

He glares at him, gritting his teeth. "I don't  _ want _ to take my time." Moomin doesn’t even seem to be fazed by his snappy retort, giving him a small smile and leading him through to the living room (Snufkin almost slips on the wet floor and wants to vomit up the soup he just ate, but the other reassures him that everything will be fine, and someone will clean up, and it does calm him a little).

Thankfully, for now, the contractions aren’t regular still, so the walk into the downstairs guest bedroom is easy. There’s already a stack of towels placed next to the bed on the bedside table, a plastic sheet under the bedsheets to protect the matress from any blood, or anything else. A gentle light spills from the lamp Moomin turns on after he helps settle Snufkin into a comfortable sitting position at the edge.  


“I’m just going to get you a glass of water,” the troll assures as Snufkin watches him move to the door with wary eyes. “Not far at all.”

He watches him rush out of the room, breathing deeply, trying to find that strange calmness of inevitability. He’s in it now, there’s no postponing it. Might as well try and take what calm he can from it, whilst he can. Shuffling back against the headboard, Snufkin reaches over to grab a blanket from the pillow next to his head, pressing it against his face and inhaling the comforting scent of their nest. He had hoped to have the babies in the nest, but didn't want to ruin the blankets, so this has to do.

The nausea settles in the back of his throat, and there are tears of panic welling uncomfortably in his eyes, and if he thinks too hard, Snufkin knows he will lose it. Considering that there’s probably still many hours of pain and panic left to go through, he can’t afford to exhaust himself yet.

_ ‘Think of how much happier you’ll feel with your babies cradled in your arms, tired but proud and excited for the future. Hold onto that,’ _ Snorkmaiden had told him as they had sipped tea, overseeing the preparation of the guest room for the birth.  _ ‘In the worst moments.’ _

So he does, imagines it all being over soon, imagining small, little creatures bundled carefully in the softest towels they own, hopefully resting peacefully. With a deep sigh, Snufkin prepares himself for the worst hours of his life.

* * *

 

Mamma, Mymble and Little My return just as his contractions begin to pick up in frequency. They’re still far enough apart that Mymble suggests him getting some sleep, as Mamma takes over Moomintroll’s position sitting next to Snufkin’s head so he can take a break.

“You’ll need as much sleep as you can get,” Mymble explains, slipping into midwife-mode almost seamlessly. It’s a little scary, but he guesses it’s just because she knows what she’s doing. “Trust me.”

Snufkin is almost tempted to ask how he could possibly sleep when it feels like his whole lower half is a toothpaste tube, being squeezed much too tightly, but Mamma gently threads her fingers through Snufkin’s hair as her and Mymble whisper quietly about other preparations and a rotation system so they can get some sleep too, and slowly, he drifts off.

* * *

 

It’s still dark when he wakes up, and the clock on the table reads 3 AM. Mymble is asleep in the rocking chair in the corner next to the window, and he can hear soft whispering from the living room.

“-want to help but I don’t know what I can do,” Moomintroll sounds way too alert for this early in the morning, voice slightly higher pitched and breathy, as though he just ran a marathon. More likely he’s feeling the same kind of panic Snufkin is, and though fully expecting to be annoyed by it, he just feels warmth filling his chest, making his eyes well up again. Of course he’d be worried, but there’s something softer in his whisper too. “Mamma, do you think he knows?”

Knows what? How much he cares?

“Oh my dear Moomintroll, of course he does,” there’s a quiet ruffling sound as she leans over to hug him, her voice also as alert as her son’s. “He’d be blind not to. And I think just your presence with him will be more than enough help.”

A painful contraction makes him wince, inhaling sharply as a groan of pain works its way out of his throat, and Moomin is at the door immediately. “Oh Snufkin, you’re awake!”

“Yes, it would seem so,” he pants out, rolling over onto his back as Mamma follows behind the other troll, sitting next to his legs. She asks him a couple of questions to gauge the situation from his standpoint, about when the first contractions started (“2 days ago”), how often they’d occur (“every other hour or so”), and whether they picked up in frequency and intensity since his waters broke (“yes”). “Do you think it’s started?”

She nods her head slowly, gesturing for Moomin to wake Mymble. “I believe so.”

They’d had a false alarm last week when the practice contractions had been particularly painful, and he’d felt extremely apologetic despite the many reassurances that it was better to be safe than sorry. The two mothers leave the room to grab the other things they’ll need that couldn’t be prepared before, and Moomintroll shuffles awkwardly by the door.

Rolling his eyes, Snufkin silently reaches a hand out to him, relishing the soft fluffiness of the moomin’s paw in his when he joins him on the bed. “Don’t leave me?”

“Of course not,” he reassures, puffing up Snufkin’s pillows so he can sit up slightly. “I’ll stay right here.”

“Thank you.” He replies, trying to breathe his way through the next contraction quietly.

* * *

 

Snufkin keeps slipping in and out of consciousness as the night continues on, restless and reawoken at least five times in the next hour, but he still feels no need to push yet (apart from the background panic telling him to hurry up, which he tries to ignore), so there’s still a long way to go. Their mothers had already finished preparing everything else (a bowl of cooled, boiled water, spare clothes, more blankets, and some food amongst other things) and were now drinking coffee in the living room.

Moomintroll sticks to his promise, silently reading a trashy romance novel Snorkmaiden had lent to them to pass the time with one paw, the other holding Snufkin’s hand still.  


The clock reads 4:46 AM. Snufkin watches the seconds tick past, three contractions 134 seconds apart each. Moomin's eyes flit over to him everytime he makes the quietest noise, thumb rubbing soothingly over the skin of his knuckles. It's a nice contrast from the pain that his drowsy mind only registers distantly. But he knows it's wishful thinking that it would stay this bearable.

As his body registers that he's awake, and his senses crawl back to him, the pain increases tenfold, his muscles contracting with such fierce intensity that he wants to curl up into a ball and sob.

He doesn't curl up, but he does sob a little. Has he ever felt pain like this before? No, not at all, and quickly, everything becomes a blur, because the need to push suddenly crashes into him, and although he doesn’t scream, Moomintroll must notice the change in pace, because he leaps out of bed to alert Mamma and Mymble.

Nothing registers with him other than pain, a pair of hands on his ankles keeping his feet planted firmly on the bed, a warm, wet flannel on his forehead and the desperation to have this all over with. When had he been changed into a nightgown? At what point did Moomin move to sit behind him? It could’ve been a couple of seconds since he woke up, it could be years since.

It feels like he’s being ripped in half. It feels like his entire body is clenching tight just to force the first child out. It feels like he could pass out any second.

Moomintroll is gently shushing behind him, one paw stroking his hair, the other holding the flannel to his forehead. He can feel tears tracking down his cheeks and soaking the neckline of his clothes. His face aches, throat aches, neck and back and head aches. He thinks he might be screaming, or shouting, or crying out, but he can’t hear anything much besides the blood rushing in his ears and the white noise building around him.

Mymble counts out to him, reminding him to breathe before and after each push, and he does it, although not without difficulty. They practiced this before, but nothing could have prepared him for this.

Agony.

In.

Out.

Push.

Try to breathe in between sobs.

He’s so ready to collapse, to lean back against Moomin and give up, but where would that leave him?

After another indeterminable length of time, he hears the words ‘last push!’ and with that in mind, takes a deep breath and pushes.

And relief floods his bones, as a loud cry fills the room that definitely isn’t Snufkin’s, high pitched and loud and shrill, and there’s a chorus of congratulations and excitement. A baby.

The first one, anyway.

A high of pride and adrenaline and joy floods him as Mamma passes him a little bundled towel, a small creature inside. Moomin leans over his shoulder, possibly crying too, and although his eyesight is blurry, Snufkin knows he loves the tiny little thing in his arms.

He can’t hear what anyone says though, because the contractions start back up, and the joy of baby number one flees to be replaced by panic again.

* * *

 

Snufkin feels like his legs might fall off if the pressure in his lower half gets any worse. He’s so tired.

Moomin is sat in the rocking chair in the corner, holding their first baby (a girl, Mamma answers when he asks), eyes fixed on Snufkin with worry still lighting up his eyes. Mamma presses the warm flannel across his face to wipe away the tears and sweat and snot, and though he can feel how wet the bed is beneath him, he couldn’t care less about how gross this all is. He just wants it over with.

He’s not far from the second child being born, he can tell. Every contraction feels worse than the last. Every breath feels like a punch to his lungs. His teeth hurt from grinding them, and his fingers ache from how tightly he’s squeezing the blanket from their nest.

Mymble is counting each of his breaths again, reminding him to push on the contraction and not before, but he just wants it all to hurry up.

Snufkin hates that both his vision and his memory is blurry, wishes he could take in the new arrivals and commit everything to memory. But the pain has him in a vice, and so it’s probably better this way.

And with a final push (that feels somehow more painful this time, despite already having done this before), the last baby is born. A boy. Mymble and Mamma congratulate him again, over the sound of his and his son’s crying, as Moomin stands and kneels on the floor beside Snufkin’s head.

Everything feels like a blur, and he definitely can't see around the tears still flooding his eyes, but their daughter is ginger and their son has white hair and he distantly thinks he might have started crying harder again with them both on his chest (since when were they put there?) before he passes out, exhausted and uncomfortable but happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *breathes in* well shit
> 
> this took ages because i had to do research that wasnt pleasant, and also i was super busy otherwise
> 
> im not entirely happy with this chapter but then again im very rarely ever happy with what i write, but i think i did my best considering ive literally never even thought about birth this exstensively before. who knows, in the future maybe ill come back and rewrite this whole thing. but for now, this is as good as i could do and for that reason im proud
> 
> BUT BABIES
> 
> that is all


	28. Postpartum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein things begin to settle once more, in their own ways

The clock reads 8:43 AM when he wakes up, aching and in pain, but relieved and feeling a lot lighter than he has for the past nine months. He doesn't know how long he's been asleep, but it can’t have been for long, as Moomintroll looks surprised to see him awake.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” He asks, still sat in the rocking chair.

Snufkin lets his eyes fall down to the two bundles held lovingly in the troll’s arms, and feels himself begin to cry all over again. It’s silly, for sure, but with the relief that the hardest part is over now, the bone deep exhaustion, the emptiness he feels without the babies’ company a constant, and the all-encompassing joy of seeing the person he loves the most holding their children so reverently, he doesn’t really know how not to let it overwhelm him.

“Oh okay, hold on,” Moomin stands, and sits next to Snufkin, gently placing the babies down in front of him before asking him if he needs a hug (he certainly doesn’t cry more at that question, not at all), pressing a kiss to his forehead as he wraps the mumrik up in his arms. “Overwhelmed?”

Taking his time to enjoy the feeling of being enveloped by the other, Snufkin takes a deep breath, inhaling the comforting scent of the troll. He could stay here, like this, in this moment (despite the pain and discomfort) forever, warm and happy and proud. Eventually, he nods, already feeling calmer from the comfort. “I feel gross.”

Moomin laughs, pulling back, and there’s so much joy and love flooding his eyes. How did Snufkin never see it there before? “I’ll run you a bath in a moment, if you’d like? But first, you have to meet our children.” He sounds like an excitable kid getting presents on his birthday, and it makes Snufkin chuckle quietly.

Helping Snufkin to sit up, Moomintroll rambles endlessly about how cute they are, how their son has beautiful brown eyes just like Snufkin’s, how their daughter’s tail is so much fluffier than any tail he’s ever seen, a variety of names they could give them. It all fades away into silence, though, as he passes him the first of their two little babies.

He vaguely remembers holding them for a brief moment before he passed out, but he didn’t get a good look at them, eyes too blurry and too tired to focus. In his right arm, a little auburn coloured moomin, awake and aware, big, bright blue eyes staring directly back at him, paws clenched tightly on the edge of the towel she’s wrapped in. The tip of her tail peeks out from the side of her, white and, just as Moomin said, fluffier than any other tail he’s seen.

“Her belly is white too,” Moomin whispers, watching as Snufkin gently strokes her tail, pleased to find it feels as soft as it looks. “I’ve never seen colouring like that on a moomin before.”

“Well, technically she isn’t just a moomin, is she?” Snufkin reminds him, smiling when she reaches a paw out and grips onto his thumb tightly. “They’re both special.”

After a moment, she lets go of his thumb, and Moomin passes him their son, helping him cradle him in his free arm. A mumrik, with white hair and white eyelashes and a gentle spray of freckles across his nose. He’s asleep, breaths gentle and even, looking about as peaceful as an angel.   


Moomintroll leaves to run his bath, and it gives Snufkin a chance to adore their children quietly and alone. They’re so small, and cute, so much cuter than he had thought they would be (mainly because he had no idea what mumrik-moomin crosses would look like, so no idea what to expect). The love flooding his chest is indescribable, so deep rooted and unconditional, the same way he felt whenever he’d run his hands over his stomach comfortingly, even right from the start.   


Their daughter (he supposes her name will be Moominmaiden) makes a quiet gurgling noise that makes him laugh, which she seems to take well, continuing to make noises as her brother snores so quietly he has to strain to hear it. They are, perhaps, the happiest accident he’s ever had the honour of creating.

* * *

 

Moomintroll places the babies in the cot in the living room, Mymble and Mamma promising to keep an eye on them as they clean up the guest room (which Snufkin tries to apologise for, but he gets a disapproving look from both of them, so he gives up) before he helps Snufkin walk to the bathroom.

He aches more than hurts now, legs shaky with exhaustion and exertion, hips stiff and everything else from the waist down feeling a little more numb than he’d like. But the gentle heat of the water as he slides down into the bath feels like a blessing, soothing each ache perfectly.

“How do you feel now?” Moomin asks, gently pouring water over Snufkin’s head and rubbing his paws through the strands of his hair. He could fall asleep again, he thinks, the careful pressure soothing beyond doubt.

“Tired, but happy,” he whispers, watching the way the water turns a slightly murky colour. “... Everything hurts.”

The other simply nods, prompting him to start gently wiping the sweat away with a soft flannel as he lathers shampoo into his hair for him. “You did so well, Snufkin, you were so brave and strong. I was amazed, and really really proud of you.”

Normally, he’d find that much praise uncomfortable, but in this moment, sleepy and proud of himself too, it only soothes him more, a small smile plastered on his face. Moomin is proud of him. He thought he was brave. Really, he couldn’t ask for much more.

* * *

 

The rest of the first day is spent learning how to breastfeed (which is so incredibly uncomfortable that Snufkin thinks he might rather go through birth again), and being checked over by Mymble (which is even worse than being taught how to breastfeed). But at the end of it all, when Pappa and My have met the babies too, and everyone is ready to pass out from the exhaustion of the past few days of uncertainty and then panic, things are calm once again.   


So far, he hasn’t quite gotten used to the constant crying sound whenever either of the babies need a feeding, or a nappy change, but that will come with time. For now, he relishes being able to watch them sleep peacefully, cute and so small.

“We need to figure out names before people ask tomorrow,” Moomintroll whispers as they stand next to the cot, the gentle moonlight spilling over them. Snufkin is trying his hardest to ignore the way the troll’s arm makes him feel, looped around his waist and keeping him close to him. “I had some more concrete ideas but I don’t know whether you had any.”

He shakes his head, willing to listen to Moomin’s ideas. Names aren’t something he’s particularly bothered by, not really, so having the other choose them may be for the best.

“Okay, well, I thought, since we both love nature so much, and flowers,” the troll stalls, looking embarrassed, but Snufkin gently gestures for him to continue. “That our daughter could be called Sunflower, and our son could be called Snowdrop, ‘cause their fur colours sort of match those flowers, and they could be shortened to Sunny and Snowy and that’s really cute, and-”

Snufkin can tell Moomintroll is beginning to ramble nervously, so he leans in and presses a kiss to his snout before smiling at him in a way he hopes is comforting. “Moomintroll, those are lovely names. I think they fit perfectly.”

* * *

 

They introduce Sunny and Snowy to the valley officially the next evening as most of the inhabitants join them for a large garden party in celebration (all thanks to Mamma and Pappa, who organised the whole event as Snufkin slept the day away). Sunny seems to enjoy the attention, being passed from person to person and making babbling noises the entire time, not even crying once. Moomin finds it rather funny, following her around and proudly interacting with everyone she lands in the arms of. Cute.   


Snowy and Snufkin, however, stay happily out of the way, watching the festivities from afar. It hadn’t taken long for the baby mumrik to begin fussing the moment people started fawning over him, and the attention was beginning to get a bit much for Snufkin too. People still come over to congratulate him, and offer small gifts, but they’re quiet and don’t stick around for long, and their understanding is really nice.

Towards the end of the party though, he rejoins everyone else, Snowy sleeping peacefully again. It all feels pretty reminiscent of the Spring party that happened not that long ago, yet feels like a whole different lifetime already. Most of the valley has left, and now it’s just their family and closest friends, sitting in a loose circle on some hay-bales, enjoying the balmy late Summer breeze.   


“You can open my gift now,” Mymble says as she passes him the brown present she gave him many months ago, Mamma passing a similar package to Moomin. They’ve both already given them little baby clothes and socks and most of the other’s gave them toys, so what it could be evades Snufkin completely. But upon unwrapping it, he’s hit with a sense of nostalgia, and carefully unfolding the fabric inside, he finds his old baby blanket. Moomin exclaims much the same, holding his out to Snufkin’s to compare them. “We thought it would be nice, like a useful heirloom.”

It’s very thoughtful, and he says as much, folding it around Snowy carefully, useful now as the breeze begins to get a little colder. Little My makes a comment about it all being too ‘disgustingly sweet’, but there’s a small smile on her face as she holds Sunny (who is almost as big as her already), so he knows she’s full of nonsense.

They spend the rest of the night talking and laughing, Joxter’s absence an obvious hole in the jovial atmosphere, but Snufkin is watching his sister, Snorkmaiden and Sniff fawn over his children with his best friend’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, and their parents swapping stories of parenthood, and he feels content, truly content, for the first time in a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just wanna say a huge thank you to everyone that has commented recently, im sorry i havent replied yet, i probably still wont just yet, because i dont have the energy to give you all the best replies i can yet, but every single one of your comments means so much to me, and quite a few of them made me extremely emotional ;-; yall are so lovely and im so lucky to have such lovely readers
> 
> on another note, if i could fucking draw yall would have references for the babies but alas, i cannot, so we suffer without
> 
> the light at the end of the tunnel is near, folks, not long now before it's all over! buckle in cause the next chapter is v good in my opinion jknscnhcdbj (of course id say that)


	29. Postpartum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein we finally get some goddamn closure, it took long enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;-;

Plucking up the courage to confess is a lot easier than Snufkin had originally thought.

Curled up on the sofa, on a late Autumn afternoon, Moomin's paws carding through Snufkin's hair as they listen to the radio, Sunny and Snowy all swaddled up and snoozing quietly in the cot not too far away, the words come to him with such ease that it feels shocking.

He could say them.

Not even the worst outcome possible comes to mind when he thinks about it, tasting the way the words sound in the back of his throat before he speaks them, sweet and warm and the truest thing he's ever said. It's taken time to get here, to the moment when those three words don't feel _wrong_ anymore, don’t feel like an indomitable task that he just can’t bring himself to think of. Surely now is a better time than any?

"I love you." Though just a whisper, it sounds like a shout, loud and clear and definite. Because he's sure of it. There’s no doubt in his mind, no question. He loves Moomintroll, and he deserves to know.

Moomin's paws freeze in his hair, and when Snufkin looks up at him from his position with his head in his lap, he finds an unreadable expression on the other's face.

But as the seconds tick on, and there's still nothing in the way of reciprocation or even positivity from him, Snufkin's heart begins to race, his mind creating a thousand different things that could be going through the troll’s mind, bad-ending scenarios he couldn’t think of just now that seem to be the only possibilities left.

"Moomintroll?"

"... You love me?"

There's an edge to his voice that Snufkin really doesn't like, choked out and bitter-sounding to his ears, quiet and yet clear as day. He's messed up. It was too soon. Mymble was wrong.

He was wrong.

Snufkin pushes himself up off the troll's lap and then the sofa, standing in front of him for just a moment before he feels the tears filling his eyes and decides he can't stay here. Moomintroll’s eyes follow him, bewildered and dumbstruck, yet otherwise blank.

"Just forget it," his voice doesn't wobble, clear and emotionless, but then he looks at their children, and everything feels so much worse. "I'll be back by morning. Probably." This time, he has to swallow down a desperate breath, a hitch altering his intonation plainly.

"Woah wait, Snufkin-" Moomintroll starts, seeming to snap out of his trance, but Snufkin's already heading for the front door, grabbing his hat from the porch before rushing down the steps. He can't hear it. He doesn’t want to.

'It'll pass' Moomin might say, or maybe he'd try to reassure him that it doesn't have to change their friendship. Worst of all he might not even try. He doesn't know if he'd rather Moomintroll follow him or leave him alone.

Snufkin let their story get to his head, perhaps the biggest fool of the whole valley for believing a lie he was a part of. How could he be so stupid? How can he raise his children in this house with his friend that he adores who doesn't love him back? At least, not in the same way. What a fool, this mumrik, to believe his own lie, and in the process, ruin everything.

What has he done?

He's near the sapling orchard of their garden, apple trees beginning to grow that will only be stalled during the long Winter months, when there's a scrambling sound from down the front steps, the front door shutting carefully, and Snufkin just speeds up, desperate to run away and forget everything in the wilderness.

"Snufkin wait!" The other's paws sound like the rhythmic beating of rapture drums, and Snufkin has to get away. He can't hear what he has to say, it'll break him.

"Just let me go, I said I'll be back by morning..."

A paw gently grabs his upper arm, and he doesn't shake him off because even now, his touch fills him with a warmth he so desperately craves. It’s wrong. He was _wrong_. "We should talk. Come back inside."

"No." Snufkin refuses to look at him, slipping out of his hold when it loosens, continuing to weave his way through the garden.

There's a loud, shaky sigh, and something about the sound makes him turn, stopping again if only for a moment. Because Moomin doesn't sound okay, panicked and desperate, and there's a flicker of shame that Snufkin can't douse settling into his stomach, because maybe he's overreacting, maybe he's upsetting him. It wouldn’t be the first time, would it?

The Autumn wind whips through the trees surrounding their glade, the chilly air combining with the adrenaline rushing through him to make his limbs tremble, minutely shaking. Silence stretches, broken only by their hurried breathing and the rattling of dry leaves in the breeze.

"I love you too, you idiot," Moomin exclaims after he’s sure Snufkin won’t keep running, arms flinging wide and eyes wild, staring him down as his breathing slowly returns to normal. But Snufkin shakes his head, feeling his heart break more at the words. It's a lie, a lie they told for no reason at all. Why is he continuing it? "Not because I have to to keep up appearances, but because I do! Genuinely! I only said we should pretend to be together all that time ago because I wanted it for real but I didn't know how to say it!"

"You don't love me, Moomin, you don't." Snufkin had believed he did, had wanted to believe it, but now he knows he was wrong. Surely. He just wants to beg him to be honest, to stop perpetuating their act, their lies, but doubt begins to settle in again, this time on the opposite outcome.

The troll makes an exasperated noise, pointing at the house. "Oh really? Why would I make a whole house to live with you in then? Why would I sleep in the same bed as you every night you sleep in the house, when there are other bedrooms? Why would I help you with your heat by mating you when there was probably a million other ways for us to deal with it? Why would I say 'I love you' if I didn't mean it...?" He looks away with the last word, and Snufkin's heart clenches. He seems... Sad.

And suddenly, he’s not sure anymore.

His words circle around Snufkin's head desperately, mind trying to make sense of everything. He thinks of how they hold hands, how they kiss, how often it feels like coming home whenever he sees their house in the distance because it's theirs. How Moomintroll quickly lost interest in everyone else the moment Snufkin went into labour, how worried but strong he was for him, how proud he was when their babies were born. How much he looked like the best pappa possible holding them both in his arms, with tears in his eyes and a huge smile on his face. How gentle he is with him when they're intimate, always concerned about Snufkin's comfort and happiness, so different to all the other partners he's taken in the past. How even when they're alone, it's like an unspoken promise that they continue to act like a couple, playing happy families so well Snufkin can easily forget it was meant to be for show, that it's supposed to be an act.

Could it be true? Could he actually love him?

Paws swipe his tears away from under his eyes, tears he hadn't even realised had fallen, and it's so soft, the same way Moomintroll has always been with him. When had he gotten closer? "Snufkin, I've loved you for years. Probably for longer than I can remember actually, which is a little embarrassing but it's true."

They both laugh quietly, wetly, the sound a little pathetic. Why would Moomin lie about that? "Really?"

"Really, truly, completely," Moomin smiles, and his eyes glisten with tears too, and Snufkin decides that they're both completely stupid. "I should've just told you in that cave last year."

"You kind of did," Snufkin admits, embarrassment tainting each word, blushing as he looks away. "Not in words, but... Um... Mother said I had to be loved, wholly, and be willing to receive that love in return... To be properly mated. Something about a witch’s curse."

Moomintroll frowns as he takes in the words, before laughing again, both disbelieving and full of mirth. "How long have you known that?"

"Maybe a month," Snufkin admits, gripping tight to Moomin's paws when he holds his hands, and the laughter is certainly infectious, clearing the fog of doubt and shame in Snufkin's heart as it lightens his whole body. "Do you think we can blame Mymble for our obliviousness?"

"Nah, that's all us, Snuff," they share a shy smile, and the world feels right again. "So... For almost a whole year, we've both been worrying if the other is in love with us? Whilst being in love with each other?"

"Don't say it, it sounds embarrassing," Snufkin leans forward and nuzzles his nose against Moomin's snout, smiling brightly when he presses a kiss to his cheek with his lips after. “Come on, we shouldn’t leave the babies alone for too long.”

They head back into the house, hand in paw, smiling brightly, hearts warm. Snufkin only wishes he hadn't overreacted to Moomin's shock. He supposes that's just how it was meant to happen.

"So... I guess we are _officially_ boyfriends now?" Moomintroll hums, watching as Snufkin nods, turning the radio down slightly before bowing down a little, asking for a dance.

And so they dance, talking through the things that they never realised were done out of love before. Snufkin's cheeks hurt from embarrassed laughter and shocked blushing, and Moomin looks no better off than he feels, but it's easier than he thought to just let go and be honest.

“I can’t believe that you thought I was just eating you out as a _friend_ ,” Moomin teases as he dips Snufkin, laughing when he covers his face with his hands, letting out a displeased groan. “Like, seriously, who even does that?”

“I’m sure lots of people do, Moomintroll,” he retaliates, pushing his face into the fur of his chest as he brings him back up, voice muffled. “I was obvious too.”

“Nope, you hid it. I mean, yes, you didn’t exactly do the opposite of what we were doing when we were around other people when we were alone, but you hardly ever initiated things. _I_ didn’t hide it, _you_ just assumed I was always acting.”

He moves back then to narrow his eyes at him playfully, instinctively ignoring the fluttering in his chest when the troll smiles at him brightly before remembering that he’s _allowed_ to feel that way with him. It’s going to take some getting used to, that’s for sure.

“So… The first time you said you loved me, really, was when Little My asked how you confessed?”

Moomin frowns, clearly trying to remember what he said before a horrified look crosses his face. “Oh no, that… Yeah… I suppose so. Does it count though, if you didn’t get it?”

This time, it’s Snufkin’s turn to frown, doing mental acrobatics to see if that really does count or not in the situation they were in. “... Depends on if you want it to count or not.”

He nods, after thinking on it some, twirling the mumrik along to the beat before resting both of his paws on his waist. “Yeah, I do. Cause it was true, so… It’s only right to be honest.”

Eventually, when the music changes tempo and they've confessed everything they needed to, they resume their earlier cuddling on the sofa. It does shock Snufkin a little how this has changed absolutely nothing in their behaviour. But then again, he supposes it wouldn't, if they've been in love this whole time anyway.

Occasionally, they start laughing about small things they missed, swapping stories about conversations with others that they had that suggest their friends and family know them both better than they know themselves. But as the night goes on, they slip back into a comfortable quiet, listening to the radio and their children’s quiet sleepy breaths.

"You and me and Sunny and Snowy, that's all I want. In whatever way I’m allowed to have that." Moomin admits once the silence settles around them, voice whisper quiet. It sounds like even more of a confession than an ‘I love you’, with more weight and risk tied to it.

"Me too." Snufkin says, and it's true. He feels like it should be scarier, tightening those tethers to someplace, someone, but admitting it just feels like a weight from his shoulders. He's still Snufkin, still an adventure loving free spirit. But he can also be a good dad to his children, and a great partner to the... Love of his life. These things are not mutually exclusive. The permanence could feel a whole lot worse, he's sure. A new chapter of his life, a new chapter to his naturally evolving character; perhaps it was just his own admittance left to catch up with the changes that had already occurred.

He thinks of spending the rest of his life coming home from adventures to his children and Moomintroll, growing old in their house together, watching Sunny and Snowy grow up, of going on adventures, the four of them. Maybe they'll get married, have more kids, travel the world once their children have grown up. After all, he has time to come to terms with it all.

Looking up at Moomin, he smiles. "I've loved you for years too, just so you know." They share a kiss that, if Snufkin were to be completely honest, is the best kiss he’s ever had, slow and full of love and easy. And although the beginning of their relationship wasn’t like that, he hopes the rest will be.

And when they fall asleep that night, the babies soft snoring filling their bedroom, Moomintroll's arms carefully holding Snufkin against his chest, snout resting on the top of his head, he finds that really, it took way too long for them both to end up on the same page.

But, maybe that's just the way of a mumrik and a moomin falling in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🎉🎉🎉 PARTY TIMEEEE, TIME TO CELEBRATE!! 🎉🎉🎉
> 
> these idiots finally stopped their bullshit
> 
> i wanted it sweet but it kinda had to be angsty too, just to keep up the theme of the fic and also because im the author and i said so
> 
> ...im going to reply to comments when the fic is over, ive decided, to save myself the pressure, but i read and reread every single new one almost daily jsjsjsj i love you all, and i hope this chapter did you all justice
> 
> so quick thank you to you all ^^ and i hope my replies will be worth the wait <3
> 
> phew
> 
> just the epilogue left, it feels like the end of an era x'3


	30. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the future seems bright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last smut chapter 
> 
> ;-;

Snufkin wakes up in what feels like a puddle, wet and sticky and all manners of uncomfortable, in cold sweats. There's a sickly sweet scent in the air, thick and cloying in his nostrils, when it hits him.

He's on his heat.

"Moomin," he whispers, voice breathy and whiny and embarrassingly soft as he leans over the other to shake him gently. "Moomintroll."

It feels unfair to wake him from hibernation, especially given the fact that he really could've just gone on a short adventure to find someone else to spend it with. But they'd decided to spend it together, and Snufkin cringes at the thought of having sex with someone that isn't his lover. 

_ His lover. _ He'll never get used to that.

"Huh?" The troll frowns, eyes still closed and probably still asleep, but his snout scrunches up a little as he sniffs the air, and suddenly he's wide awake, alert. "Oh, heat?"

Snufkin nods, trying to ignore the way his thighs slide together deliciously, electricity shooting up his spine at the simple friction. His hands shake, breath hot and core wet, the heat having obviously hit overnight as he slept.

He's endlessly glad he'd had the foresight to visit Mymble yesterday with the babies the moment he felt the heat beginning to crawl its way up his spine (most Winters, his heat usually arrives a week after he gets the first hint of it, but he'd had a strange foreboding about it this year).

"How far along are you?" Moomintroll asks, voice deep and rough with sleep, sending a violent shudder throughout the mumrik's body.

Laying himself back down on the bed, Snufkin sighs. "I woke you the moment I woke up myself. I took the babies to Mymble yesterday because I could tell it was coming."

"Why didn't you wake me then?" The troll pushes some of the blankets of their nest out of the way before nudging Snufkin's legs apart and settling himself in between. He still seems sleepy, but his eyes are definitely dark with something that's not fatigue, so Snufkin is not going to point it out.

"Because it hadn't come yet," he says, arching his back subconsciously as Moomin runs his paws over the much flatter expanse of his stomach than the last time they did this. "And it could've been another week before I was fully in heat."

Shrugging, the moomin's snout nuzzles up against the crook of Snufkin's neck, fur tickling the sensitive skin there. "I didn't get to say goodbye to the kids."

Snufkin laughs softly, taking Moomin's face in between his hands and pressing a soft kiss to the side of his snout. “They won’t mind, they’re babies.” There’s something undeniably attractive to him about how much Moomintroll cares about their children, warmth flooding his chest in a way so different to the heat. 

“Well I mind,” he pouts, slowly sliding his paws down to Snufkin’s thighs. “But I suppose we’re gonna be far too busy for me to worry about it for too long.”

Lifting his legs up to loop around the other’s waist, he nods in agreement. He hopes that’ll be the case. 

Moomin pushes their lips together slowly, taking their time to steal each other’s breaths away, before he carefully runs a finger down the length of the mumrik’s entrance, slick matting the fur almost instantly. “You weren’t kidding when you said you can get wetter last time.”

If he had any faculties left, Snufkin might’ve blushed at that. Instead, he just pushes his hips forwards insistently, the gentle touch not nearly enough to satisfy him. But if Moomin gets the message, he doesn’t acknowledge it, taking his sweet time to slip his index finger into him, gasping a little for some reason.

“You’re actually burning up inside,” there’s some hint of shock to his voice, and something else like desire, and Snufkin tries not to feel proud of it, but fails. “Was the heat in the cave… Not a normal one?”

He shakes his head, biting his lip as Moomin carefully rubs the pad of his finger against his walls, taking a moment to catch his breath before answering. “Natural heats, like this one, are more intense. That was an accidental recreational heat.”

Have they not discussed it before? He doesn’t even try to remember, hyper-focusing on the way the moomin slips his middle finger into him alongside the first, curling them upwards to press against the area that makes Snufkin see stars.

Vaguely, he thinks of how no one has ever known his body quite as well as Moomin does, the fire in his lower stomach almost roaring in delight as soft, breathy moans cascade from his lips, stimulated and pleasured in all the right ways. Even when he pleasures himself on the rare occasion he feels the need to, Snufkin can never reach the kind of pleasure that the other bestows upon him, something lacking and not quite as satisfying.

Part of him thinks it’s cheesy, and the other part thinks it’s a sign of their compatibility. How romantic.

Moomintroll watches the way the mumrik’s face changes as he reacts to the way he skillfully works him open from the inside, the wet sound of his fingers slipping in and out loud in the room. “I could never get tired of this,” he hums, voice appreciative and a bright, loving smile on his face. “Taking my time, watching you come undone. It’s like you let all the thoughts go.”

Snufkin thinks he might have laughed if Moomin didn’t work a third finger into him after his last word, the stretch not that much greater due to the excessive amount of slick leaking from his hole. Instead, he bites his lip against a soft moan, trying not to think of the irony in how he struggles to let go of his thoughts in these moments. Perhaps Moomin just notices the way he seems to try to focus more on the sex.

He’s so tempted to beg the other to just hurry up and knot him, to take him as many times as he can before the heat is over, that he doesn’t need to be prepared (that’s the whole point of the heat, his body has done all the prep already), but he knows the moomin won’t listen to his begging, too chivalrous to just give it to him. And he’d be lying if he said he disliked that attitude of his, to treat Snufkin the way he feels he deserves to be treated.

But he’s also incredibly desperate. He’s even half-inclined to believe he could take the other’s entire paw at this rate.

His hips do most of the talking that he wishes he could for him, rolling in sync with each thrust of Moomintroll’s digits, taking them deeper and deeper, craving as much friction as possible.

Eventually, the troll seems to decide to have mercy on him, his fingers pulling out with an embarrassingly slick sound, the white fur glistening and dripping with his juices.

“Mymble… Gave us some protection,” Snufkin says, mind foggy but not far enough beyond coherent for him to forget the pain of labour. He doesn’t want anymore kids, not yet at least, and had voiced as much to his mother when dropping off the babies. (‘Condoms, my dear. Do you not have any?’) “They’re in my drawer.”

Moomin shuffles over him, reaching an arm out to grab a condom from the bedside table, shutting the drawer and settling back in between Snufkin’s legs. He looks a little less confused than the mumrik had expected, which he’s glad for, but he sits up nonetheless and takes the wrapper from his paws. “I want to put it on you.”

Nodding in understanding, his lover releases his cock from in between his legs, already mostly hard, the tip softly shining with precum. Snufkin moves closer, unable to prevent the gasp that spills from his lips at the way his own crotch rubs against the bedsheets, wet and tingling. 

Powerless to the desire to taste him, his tongue darts out to collect the salty residue of his precum, lapping at the head of his dick with as leisurely a pace as he can manage. No point letting it go to waste.

Moomin sounds a little breathless, clean paw coming to rest in Snufkin’s hair, petting it gently as he brings him to a full erection, one hand wrapped around the shaft as he continues to lick over the tip.

Once fully satisfied that the troll is hard enough, the mumrik moves back slightly (smiling angelically up at the other when he sighs in disappointment at being left hard) and tears open the wrapper carefully. He places the ring of silicone against the tip, pinching the top of the condom before sliding it down his length, all the way to the base. Happy with his work, Snufkin resumes his previous position, nestled in the blankets, legs spread, as welcoming as he can make himself.

The troll throws the wrapper at the bin in the corner of the room and misses but ignores that in favour of slotting himself back in between Snufkin’s thighs and leaning over him, one paw on the bed next to his head, the other holding his cock to guide it to the other’s entrance. “Ready?”

“Moomintroll I’ve been ready this whole time.” He tries to snap the words, but instead he just sounds whiny, causing him to flush a dark red and subsequently kiss the other just to distract him before he can comment on it. It works, keeping Moomin quiet as he presses his erection against Snufkin’s opening, before sliding inside, the condom not too different to the feeling of his skin, thin enough that he can still feel every vein along the shaft. 

Moomin takes a moment to breathe, mumbling something about how hot the other feels around him, his other paw moving to the other side of Snufkin’s head, to hold him up over him. Snufkin digs his toes into the bedsheets, the feeling of finally being stretched open on his boyfriend’s cock both soothing his boiling heat and fueling the flames more, his every nerve firing off now he has what he needs. 

To think he thought his last heat would be the only one he’d ever spend with the troll. To think that the one before that, he’d been determined to try not to even think about his best friend as he was helped through it by a random stranger, wishing helplessly that it could be Moomintroll inside of him instead. And now here they are, in their home, spending their first proper heat together after having two beautiful children.

It almost feels like a dream, still. Like he could be in the midst of a fever dream, everything he’d ever hoped to have and even more practically falling into his lap. But then again, he thinks of all the pain and heartache and decides that no, this cannot be a dream, just a very unlikely but happy accident and the subsequent culmination of years of pining.

His left hand comes up to rest against the side of Moomin’s face, fingers stroking the soft fur there reverently as the troll continues to hold still. “My Moomintroll, I’m so lucky to have you.”

His bright blue eyes, soft and full of love, meet his own (probably teary) eyes, as he smiles. “I’m lucky to have you too.”

Snufkin feels a little choked up, but he also feels relentlessly horny, so he pushes his hips against Moomin’s with a throaty moan, delighted when the other moans as well, beginning to slowly pull out of him.

The first few thrusts are torturously slow, every inch of the other’s cock stretching him so carefully that he feels more frustrated than eased, but eventually the pace begins to pick up, his slick easing the way and making every ounce of friction so much smoother. Moomintroll slides in deep enough to make Snufkin see stars, especially on particularly hard thrusts, stimulating every nerve ending and setting his skin on fire from the pleasure.

It always feels good with Moomin, but there’s something special about both being on his heat and knowing that they’re in love, that makes this time feel extra good. Like the joy of dipping his toes into the stream on a particularly hot Summer’s day, or watching the snow melt as he returns to the valley for another year, it feels like a moment he knows he’ll be able to repeat, but must still savour every second whilst he has it in the present.

His fingers slide into the thicker fur on the troll’s chest, gripping tight as pleasure overwhelms him, breaths and moans mingling together with broken cries of his boyfriend’s name in the air above him, accompanied by Moomin’s reciprocal sounds of pleasure. 

They have plenty of time throughout the rest of his heat to take it slow and enjoy every second, but right now, all Snufkin wants is to cum, and to make Moomin cum too. He makes sure to clench tightly around his cock on every pull out, rolling his hips with every thrust to prolong contact, the sound of wet skin slapping against sticky fur echoing in their bedroom, background music to the chorus of their voices.

Perhaps he has been led to delirium by the pleasure, the heat, the feeling of reciprocated love, but Snufkin doesn’t even care that there’s tears running tracks down his cheeks. Because, at the end of it all, this is the best heat he has ever had, and it’s only just started.

His toes curl into the bedsheets again, hands moving from the troll’s fur to the blankets above his head to get a better purchase, grounding him and allowing him to focus solely on the pleasure working its way through his veins, chasing the heat. He’s endlessly glad for the condom, otherwise he’d have thrown caution to the wind and not even asked the other to pull out before cumming, and knowing his luck they’d end up with a very pregnant Snufkin once more.

Every limb aches with the tension making his muscles quiver, the air thinner from their desperate gasps and panting breaths, but the slight light-headedness only makes everything feel hotter, more intense, and he wonders if this is why some people like being choked. The thought almost makes him laugh, but he’s once more distracted by the delicious feeling of Moomin sliding into him and filling him up.

He wants this moment to last forever, to feel Moomin inside of him and all around him, to never part from him for long, and though he knows it’s just his heat talking, Snufkin doesn’t fight the devotion, letting it flood his senses for now. It’s enjoyable in this isolated moment and he doesn’t feel like arguing against the deep-seated warmth it gives him.

A sharp, much deeper thrust forces him out of his head, voice cracking on a cry as he almost screams, “I love you!”, his vision whiting out as he cums all over Moomin’s cock. Slick gushes out of him and his walls clamp around the other, coaxing him to his own orgasm.

“I love you too, Snufkin!” Moomintroll pants as he fills the condom, shallowly thrusting still as they ride out their orgasms, kissing each others’ breaths away just as quickly as they take them, unable to stop touching each other.

Eventually they both calm down, and the heat subsides, leaving Snufkin coherent once again. He heads downstairs to grab some water and some snacks on a tray to last the both of them until the next time they have a break, wrapped up in a blanket from their nest. Moomin thanks him brightly as he drinks his glass of water quickly before refilling it from the pitcher, watching as Snufkin drinks his own a little slower, knowing from experience that small sips rehydrate him quicker. Neither of them feel particularly hungry yet, given the late hour, so they decide to head into the shower to wash off and hopefully get some sleep before the next wave of heat hits.

They don’t last long enough to get some more sleep, the next wave much stronger and more insistent than the first, and Moomin makes a comment about not being able to get it up that quickly (though he does, Snufkin notes with a self-satisfied smirk), and he hopes that the rest of the heat goes in much the same way.

They do manage to catch some rest after that round, too exhausted to shower again, and with his boyfriend’s (boyfriend’s!) arms wrapped around his waist, his breath tickling the back of his neck with every exhale, gentle I love you’s still echoing in his mind, Snufkin knows that their future will be bright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idek what to say here
> 
> i don't wanna go overboard with the note but i feel like i need to so i'm going to jndfskjncf (feel free to ignore this)
> 
> HERE IS A LONG ASS SPEECH JNKDJN I HAVE NO FILTER
> 
> first of all, this...has been one hell of a labour of love. when i started writing _escape the burning wait_ , i had no idea that 1. i'd have as much engagement as i did, and 2. that i'd end the year with a 70000 word, novel length sequel under my belt. there's been many moments where i hated everything i wrote, and it has been an uphill battle, but i'm gonna do my little 'thank you' piece in a minute jdkjn
> 
> for someone who has always been in the background of fandom, too scared to put myself out there, always playing it safe, this work symbolises my journey to self-acceptance and it gives me so much pride to see just how many people actually like my writing enough to still be here, 6 months later, at the end of 30 chapters
> 
> i'm gonna be real cheesy for a moment but this fic has been life-changing in so many ways jndfkjn the confidence i have is so much stronger now, my faith in my abilities is more than doubled and living day to day has been easier knowing i have put something out into the world and given people at least a small bit of joy and entertainment
> 
> i didn't even think this would be more than 10 chapters long. i have never written so much before. it's actually scary kndfkjn
> 
> okay, time for some thank you's jndkjn
> 
> firstly, and most importantly, to everyone who has ever read, kudoed, and/or commented, i couldn't have done this without you. every single one of you. i didn't even think i'd pass 100 kudos and 1000 hits, and yet here i am, staring at over 750 kudos and 15000 hits, almost 50 comments unreplied to in my inbox and way more already replied to, still shocked out of my mind. you are all the reason i had the strength to keep writing and keep motivated, and without you all this fic would not have passed chapter 5
> 
> secondly, to the wonderful and lovely people who have made art inspired by or for this fic, you don't even know how grateful i am. everytime i see a mention in my tumblr notes, or get a dm, and see art of the boys, or the babies, or a scene that you liked, or even doodles you just thought i'd like, my heart melts and i always end up crying jfkjndc to think people like what i write enough to do that... well, younger me would never have believed you if you told them
> 
> thirdly, to the people who have been here right to the end, and have been supportive and understanding of my weird tendency to overshare and get super depressed and emo all the time, and yet still read this and follow me, i can't thank you enough. i wouldn't have gotten this far without you guys too, and it means everything to me when i see your usernames in my notes or my emails
> 
> fourthly, to all the friends i've made along the way, even if we don't talk as often anymore, i love you jnsjndx if you think i mean you i probably do. you all get internet hugs *hugs* (wow cheesy much)
> 
> lastly but certainly not leastly, thank you to [@moomroll](https://moomroll.tumblr.com) on tumblr (i've forgotten ur ao3 username jndckjnsdkjn) for being the most supportive, most understanding, and most resilient s/o. i could gush about you for hours but you know that already cause i do it often enough erjfjkfd everytime i came crying to you about how much i hate my writing, how bad i thought every chapter was, all my insecurities, you kept me both logical and gave me the love and support i needed to keep going, and also helped with a couple of things i got stuck on, which is super nice and kind of you and it meant so much to me then and still does now. and all the times i needed distraction from the writing, or a break, you were there, and even though i fought against needing to take breaks i'm so thankful to you for keeping me sane jkndnjcnj i love you so much, and i know this is gonna embarrass you (and i could've said it to you privately) but no i gotta scream it out in the end notes like the oversharer you fell in love with
> 
> jsjk
> 
> snufmin, amirite? god what a pair. i love them. this fic is my love letter to the ship, and the fandom really. jdfkj strange love letter but it is what it is
> 
> okay speech over, i'm crying, my eyes are blurry, i can't see the keyboard, saying goodbye to this fic is like sending my child off to uni X'D
> 
> i hope you all enjoyed this epilogue, and the fic in general. as much as i was writing this for myself, i was also writing it for you all too, and this all means the world to me
> 
> thank you, llama out <3

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr [@g0ryllama](https://g0ryllama.tumblr.com)
> 
> <3


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